Strange Magic
by Andy Hearter
Summary: Holly, a girl whose knowledge of Star Wars is dismally limited, finds herself sent across time and space to a Galaxy Far, Far Away. With her she takes a vast knowledge of Star Trek, which, honestly, will not help her much. Or will it? The slightly humorous adventures of a Trekkie in Star Wars, the pathway one girl takes in discovering the Strange Magic that is the Force. Luke/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Greetings! This is my first fanfiction ever published, and I am just seeing how this goes. It is about a girl who is an extreme fan of science fiction that is NOT Star Wars, but that doesn't mean that you have to know everything she's talking about; the main characters certainly don't. Please, read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned this franchise or any aspects of it, including characters, plot, setting, etc., there would be no point to write fanfiction about it.

Happy Reading!

42.

There had been a storm the previous day; that meant that the ground was soaking with old muddy water and the concrete was dark with moisture. The February air was chilly, but not cold enough to allow snow; Holly thought it was quite unfair, really, for it to be this cold and not snow.

The girl in question strode across an old road that lay covered in gravel instead of asphalt. She had thick brown hair, which she presently ran a hand through; near her scalp the air was warm, and her fingers were chilled to the bone. Over her shoulder was slung a denim bag, packed densely with books. Her shoulders strained to support its great weight while her other hand, the one not currently tousling her hair, carried still more books and binders.

Holly was seventeen, the age of supreme stupidity and delusions of grandeur. The books in both her bad and she arms were the thick, old textbooks that she had rented from the school—their spines were fraying and many pages hung loose between others. Her blue hoodie, which bore the Star Trek science officer insignia on its breast, served as protection against the irritating cold, but not much; her exposed face and hands were painfully subject to the relentless and furiously chilling breeze.

As the headphones in her ears switched to the next song on her playlist, she turned the corner of the street and was greeted by a bright traffic light. The sun had not yet fully risen, as it was only a quarter to eight in the morning, and she felt _blinded by the light_. The stoplight was useless, because hardly anybody drove on this street, but it served as a shock to take Holly out of her reverie, indicating that she had arrived at her school.

Holly attended the small and incredibly old school of Saint Valentine's Catholic Academy. The parish in which she and her family lived, Pointe Coupee, had a miniscule population, so small that there was only one campus needed to educate all students in the entire parish, nearly the entire diocese. She herself lived near enough to the dilapidated building that she could walk there in under thirty minutes, which was why she was not taking the bus.

Her school was not a particularly bad one, per say. The only problem with attending a school so small was that there was no hiding. She could not easily remain inconspicuous or unobtrusive without looking like she was trying to do so, which would just defeat her purpose by attracting even more attention.

That meant that the entire school, kids her age and not, knew exactly what kind of student she was. Hers was not a name recognized then dismissed—no. Rather, it was a name told throughout the school as if she were an untouchable and cold being, literally. If someone failed a test and their parents scolded them, they could say, "Man, I'm no Holly O'Reilly," and their parents would fully understand the jibe. Holly's parents would argue that it was not a bad thing to care solely about academics, but it did nothing to help her habits of social ineptitude.

She hated speaking to people. Clare was fine, sort of. Clare knew when to back off, mainly because she had other friends that she could turn to; she had been the type of person who always needed human contact, whereas Holly had been the type of person who always needed solitude.

Not only did Holly have a reputation for being a complete "nerd" or "dork," she also had an infamy for being rather rude. That was because being unpleasant was the only way she could think of to get people to leave her alone—everyone seemed to want to talk to her, for some reason (probably just to swipe some homework or notes that they hadn't bothered to complete).

The day was boring; Holly and her best friend, Clare, argued about the integrity and allure of Star Trek and Star Wars, Holly favoring for the former. Clare was perhaps the biggest Star Wars fan alive—not literally, because Clare was actually quite slim—and Holly was the Star Trek counterpart.

She, Holly O'Reilly, was a Trekkie, no doubt about it. Clare, on the other hand, was a….what did Star Wars fans call themselves? What was their version of Whovian or Trekkie? Well, that just goes to show that Holly did not know much about Star Wars; she didn't even know their fandom identity, if there was one. If there wasn't, well….embarrassing for them, then.

Holly was a major sci-fi nerd; she preferred a certain type of science fiction, though. Star Wars had never caught her attention, mainly because of what she had heard about it from Clare. So far as she knew, everything important in the saga was that "Han Solo is a total hottie," (Clare's words, not Holly's) "Luke is ugly and kisses his sister," (also not Holly's) "Yoda can't speak correctly and Bigfoot tags along behind Harrison Ford," (those, for once, were Holly's words.) Of course, she also knew the basics; Luke and Leah (is that her name? Holly felt as though she was sorely wrong, but for the life of her she could not recall the actual pronunciation) are brother and sister, and Darth Vader is their dad. Oh, yeah; Jar Jar Binks is the worst character in history. Purportedly.

Holly supposed that it was fair, because the only things Clare knew of her interests were the "Live Long and Prosper" sign, the Doctor is an alien, and all the books Holly reads are old and boring. Of course, Clare couldn't be less correct on the last point, but Holly had long since given up in trying to get into her that HER BOOKS WERE NOT BORING.

She recalled a conversation from earlier that day, while the two of them sat outside at lunch…

"How 'bout that character game?" the loud voice of the girl next to her said. Holly looked at Clare, nodding. Her friend was tall and thin, a stark contrast to Holly's own short and subtly round form. The blond hair that framed her face and cascaded down her back in a halo of pure artificial color did actually compliment her complexion, Holly was loath to admit, while her own short, choppy and rather boring just did whatever the hell it wanted to.

The aforementioned 'character game' included two or more people. It was not something of their own invention, they had just not bothered finding out its real name. One person would think of a character from a fictional piece and the others would have to guess at who the character was. Simple, right? It was amazing how quickly something so menial could pass the time.

"Okay, you go first," said Clare, who sat across from Holly on the cement of the courtyard. She adjusted her body to a more comfortable position, leaning against the platform of an old stone statue of St. Valentine. Her halo of blond hair, cascading around her face and shoulders like a curtain of pure artificial color, was always much nicer than Holly's own. In fact, the two were nearly about as different as two people could get, physically; while Clare was tall and thin, with a very pretty willowy air, Holly was short and slightly rounder.

"Okay." Holly racked her brain, trying to come up with something that wouldn't be insanely hard for her sadly uncultured friend. She watched, thinking, as Clare absentmindedly scrutinized a loose threat on her diaphanous blue sweater. "Um….okay. I've got it."

"Man or woman?" she questioned.

"Man."

"Is it….from Doctor Who?"

"Nope." Clare looked crestfallen. She would have to try a bit harder, it seemed.

"Hitchhiker's Guide?"

"Nope."

"Star Trek?"

"Yep." Clare grinned.

"Oh, I know this. Um. Maybe I don't. But I do, no, I do. It's that pointy eared elf guy!" Holly faked an offended look after laughing at Clare's vain enthusiasm.

"That's how you view Spock?!" she demanded incredulously. "And no, it's not him."

"Oh, dang it. Well…who else is there in Star Trek? Ugh. Hmm…Captain Kirk? No. Fine then. That black chic? What was her name?"

Holly laughed. "Uhura is not a man, Clare," she stated. "I'll give you another hint: 'I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker!'"

"Was that supposed to help? 'Cause it didn't really."

It went on and on in this fashion. For some reason, the two girl were amused by this manner of entertainment. It really did not take much to relieve them of their boredom when they were in the company of both each other and food. It soon transpired that Clare would never guess that the character was Bones, or McCoy, so Holly gave in and told her.

"Okay, my turn now. I'm thinking of a character." Clare adopted a serene look, as though she were a teacher questioning her students on a subject discussed mere minutes previously.

"Does he wear classes?"

"What kind of question is that? No, of course not."

"It's an important question, that's what. Well. Does he have... a Poirot mustache?"

"A what? No. Maybe. I don't know. What's a Poirot?"

The bell rang, signaling the end of another lunch period. Clare stated that she had been thinking of a man called "Lando Calrissian" or something like that, right before they departed. It was surprising; with how few students the school held, how was it that the two shared basically no classes? Holly could never come up with a kind answer. The monotony of that day drew on, with lunch, one of the only hours that she shared with Clare, being the highlight. And of course the two had to pass their time in such a pointless and imbecilic manner.

Holly presently pressed a finger to the bridge of her glasses and slid them up her nose; they had a nasty habit of sliding off. When she had them correctly positioned, she spotted the bane of her existence: the lenses were smudged. Fingerprints, dust, anything on her glasses bothered her to no end. Holly shuddered; how DARE her glasses do this to her?

She pulled them from her face, pouting at the small frames, even though it would be to no avail, if one even _can_ pout at glasses. Holly would not let inanimate objects hinder her pursuit of….point proving. She rubbed thoroughly with her hoodie the glass, held the frames up to the light to inspect their cleanliness, (or rather, the lack thereof) and rubbed them again. When she was finally satisfied, she raised her hands to push them back onto the bridge of her nose—

When she felt a harsh _SMACK!_ Against her head as she collided with something very hard and unexpected. Her eyes closed and she instinctively recoiled, head ringing as she stumbled back and dropped the books that she held in her hands. Her body tilted, or felt like it did, at least, and she moved her feet back to try and steady herself.

Holly felt the throbbing of the blow on her forehead and cheek and the aching in her shoulders, and before she could even ponder what she had run into, figures swam before her eyes (open or closed, she couldn't really tell). The background shifted from white to black with bright afterimages in the foreground, and it was all very confusing, understandably.

The ringing in her ears only intensified as she glanced around her. All she could see was the bright mass of confusion, and she felt herself fall against the ground. It did not hurt as much as her head currently did, and her hands clumsily clawed at the ground surrounding her fallen body.

What she felt did not help ease her lack of understanding: it was not the harsh rocks of gravel that dug into her palms, but rather….was that….was that sand? It felt much softer than the usual ground, very dry, and very warm. The light intensified as Holly tried vainly to right herself, as if the sun had doubled in strength. She squinted, even though she was now certain that her eyes were closed.

Suddenly, the ringing stopped. It all stopped; the ringing, the odd figures, and the dizziness were suddenly gone. The pain and light, the undefinable heat, that was still present, but now that she could think clearly—at least, a bit more clearly. She was completely certain, now, that what she balled a fist around was sand.

She opened her eyes.

It was every bit as bright as she had thought. Holly had to blink several times before her eyes could adjust. Where was she? What happened? She was now beginning to doubt whether or not she had run into a pole…had she been knocked out? Was she dreaming? It certainly did not feel like a dream; all of her sensations were tangible, and there was no surreal element to the sandy desert in which she lay to betray this as a fallacy concocted by her subconscious.

She turned her head from left to right, trying to see past the vast expanse of dunes before her. To one side, there were many rocks, with a jagged horizon, and the other was just a yellow sea of dunes.

 _Oh my god, am I on Arrakis? This looks like Arrakis. I'm in_ Dune _! This is_ so _awesome_

 _It's also impossible_ , Holly scolded herself internally….had the world gone mad? Though, she supposed it was just as likely as finding herself in the Sahara Desert. Only, in the Sahara, there are no gigantic, earth-eating (or Arrakis-eating) worms that sense the sound of footsteps, so it would be a bit better if she were in the African desert. Furthermore, the Sahara is actually ON EARTH, and actually REAL.

It must be a Thursday. She had never gotten the hang of Thursdays.

So where was she? As she turned around, however, her thoughts were cut short.

A rather familiar face stared back at her.

If this were Arrakis, she would be seeing Paul Atreides, Muad'Dib, or something like that. If this were Gallifrey, she'd be seeing the Doctor. But it was neither.

She was staring, head on, and a golden man. He was grimy and dull, now, but Holly knew from pictures that Clare had shown her that this robot, which was once a bright shining gold, was called C-3PO. It didn't take a genius—or a Star Wars fan—to know that.

His bright eyes were creepy, even though they were just round light bulbs. That was her first thought.

Holly's second thought was voiced aloud.

" _What?_ " she demanded incredulously.

"Hello," came a soft, electronic voice. It was so unique that she could not adequately describe it—Holly figured that it was British, obviously, but that was about it—was it male? The figure of the suit worn by the man inside suggested such. It was a suit, that much was apparent; there were no such things as real talking robots that could walk like this. Weren't there? She was just waiting for the other one…what was his name…that walking trash bin… "I am C-3PO, Human Cyborg Relations."

Holly's mouth moved, but she spoke no words. She suddenly became aware that she was still on the ground and, in one quick movement, rushed to her feet. She began to back up, but her feet brushed against something. She tripped over herself again, and when she turned to regard the offending object, she was delighted to see that it was her old, trusty bag.

She decided that the bag was special. Not only had it survived a tumble to the ground (which she was honestly surprised at—it was so old that Holly had expected it to tear at the slightest touch) but it had also survived the transportation with Holly to the desert, Sahara or otherwise, where she met a mega-geek Cosplaying as C-PO from Star Wars.

She would name her bag Steven.

But the costume was surprisingly accurate….

"I'm not an idiot, you know," Holly stated. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest, attempting some mild form if intimidation. She had grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. The weight of the books was, for the first time ever, oddly comforting. "You're not real."

"Why, ma'am, whatever would make you say that?" the robot impersonator asked incredulously. "I am very much real, as you can see. This is my fellow droid, R2-D2…R2, where are you?" the golden body turned to inspect another droid, one that Holly had not yet noticed rolling away towards the jagged rocky horizon.

"How did I get into this mess?" the golden man said despairingly. "I really don't know how. We seem to be made to suffer. It's our lot in life." Was he talking to her? Or to the other droid? This one, Holly recognized as well; he was the shorter, blue and white trash bin that beeped all the time.

"I've got to rest before I fall apart," the golden droid admitted sulkily. "My joints are almost frozen. Miss, do you know where we are?" Holly shook her head, backing away from the odd man. He was a creep; probably some sort of murderer who went to _very_ great lengths to avoid capture. The other robot, R2, beeped in response. "What a desolate place this is."

Holly now wished that she had seen the movies. She didn't know if the crazy Cosplayers had memorized lines from the film and were quoting them or not—she at least wanted to know how accurate they were in their portrayal, even if it was the last thing she ever wondered before she was brutally murdered. The smaller droid—she allowed herself the benefit of the doubt to call them droids, at least, because she just didn't know what else to call them—beeped a noise that sounded more like a whistle, actually, and turned sharply away from the two others. Holly followed his track with her eyes and saw that he was heading towards the rocks.

"Where are you going?" The little droid beeped yet again in response to his companions query. Was it just Holly, or did the little droid sound….sassy? No, of course not; that was ridiculous. A droid could be sassy just as much as a bunny could be murderous. Wait… "Well, I'm not going that way. It's much too rocky. This way is much easier."

The two droids continued to converse as Holly simply watched. She began to clutch her bag Steven protectively, as if it were a shield against the madness that was playing out before her eyes. She did not know what was happening, or who to believe; it was an elaborate show indeed, one arguing about pathways and the other (apparently) thinking there was a settlement in the opposite direction. Was there? Could she finally find someone sane to talk to, or would there just be foreign aborigines that she couldn't understand?

Oh, of course there would be. This was definitely nowhere near Holly's house, possibly even country. She must've been out for a _long_ time.

"No more adventures. I'm not going that way." Holly was definitely being stupid. She scolded herself even as she did so, but as the two droids went their separate ways, Holly followed the tall golden man. There was something about him, even though common sense and logic clearly dictated otherwise, that was inherently _not_ threatening about him, something that said "this man is not the murderer you think he is." She was either a very good or very bad judge of character.

"You said you're C-3PO, right?" Holly questioned, now that the other droid disappeared behind the dunes.

"I am indeed, Miss," he stated. "And might I ask, who are you?"

Holly considered something briefly before giving in to her worse judgement. "Uh, I'm Captain….Deanna Troi, of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_. Science Officer."

Holly was officially out of her mind. As Queen's 'I'm Going Slightly Mad' invaded her memory, she admonished herself strictly. _What the hell are you thinking?! Deanna Troi? She would_ never _be a science officer, let alone captain! And when is a science officer_ ever _a captain? That's always for tactical._

Oh, what was she talking about? That didn't matter. What really mattered was whether or not the droid would buy her stupid half-witted lie.

That happened when she was nervous: she resorted to relaying the things that she knew. In this case, all that she knew (and could instantly remember) was a dumb story about, of all things, Star Trek? She sighed internally and, for nearly the fiftieth time today, regretted many decisions in her lifetime.

"Oh, you're a captain, Miss Deanna? How fascinating. Why exactly are you here, then? And where is your ship?"

Holly thought quickly, and her thoughts did not exactly warrant pleasing or even adequate results. "We….my crew and I, that is….we were shot down. I had to take the last remaining shuttle to the nearest planet….which happens to be this one. But I'm not exactly sure where this _is,_ though," she stuttered and rambled. Oh, Holly was horrible at this. Lying was the absolute _worst_ , even if she was only lying to a robot.

"That is quite devastating, miss. Do you know if any of your crew survived?"

Time to go on with the probably trademarked story. "Well, no, I don't. I left many hours after they did, of course….I tried to fend off as many….Klingons….as I could. Before I finally abandoned ship."

"Impressive." The two of them continued walking, and the intense heat of this horrid environment was really starting to wear on Holly. She had never enjoyed heat, and this was _much_ too uncomfortable for anyone to bear. 3PO was lucky to be a robot. If that was really what he was, that is. "What are Klingons?"

"Oh, they're a race of hostile humanoids on the other side of the neutral zone. Always attacking Federation ships, they are. They had a bird of prey after the _Enterprise_ ….we didn't stand a chance." It was coming to her easily, being a Trekkie and all. She was so into the show that she could pilot one of their starships with her eyes closed….theoretically.

Holly continued to explain to 3PO the dynamic that the Klingons had with her 'United Federation of Planets' and he listened intently. It seemed as though he had an actual personality, not just an electronic computer for a brain. That did not help convince her that this was actually the protocol droid from the 'Galaxy far away" or whatever it was. She was startled to hear that they, the two droids and herself, were nowhere near her alleged "Alpha Quadrant." 3PO explained that they were on a planet in a place called the Outer Rim.

"Outer Rim?" Holly questioned.

"Oh, indeed. I'm sure of it. No Core World would be this sparsely populated, and I certainly would have identified them all by now. The chances of this being a major planet are depressingly low."

This confounded her to no end. What was this unfathomable droid speaking of? She did not know anything about the "Outer Rim" or "Core" worlds. This man must be a seriously devout fan. Of course, the same could be said of her…but not about Star Wars. Oh, if only she were Clare….

As they were explained to her, she panicked. Was her plan going to work? The way 3PO described it, it seemed they had charted the entire galaxy. Could she claim to be from another galaxy? After all, if 'space travel' was possible in this geek's impressively detailed Live Action Role Play, so why couldn't intergalactic traversing of the Universe be conceivable?

They walked on. As their conversation was drawn out, Holly pondered, only half-seriously, if this was the real life. Or is it just fantasy? Caught in a—okay, she had to stop herself there; she would _not_ start quoting old song lyrics _in her head._ If there was any true sign of insanity, this was it.

What was she going to do? She did not know if she could trust anything that this 3PO man said, but she also couldn't know for certain whether this was an elaborate ploy or not. Because really, why would someone choose Holly to trick? Of all people, why her? She was of absolutely no significance to anybody aside from herself. Hell, even Clare was her friend mainly because she let her copy her homework—she was a walking brain with no personality, basically.

She may be exaggerating, but she was ten times more useless than everyone around her. She just walked around, reading and watching pathetic old television, studying and maintaining a delusion that she would actually do something with her life. Her brothers both had jobs, as did her parents. Even Clare had a part-time employment at the local hair salon; Holly had no job. One, because she took all advanced and AP classes and would have no time to actually get any work done when considering all of her homework. Two, there was nowhere in the small town in which she lived that would be of any interest to her. She would never lower herself so much as to work at a McDonalds or something of the like, and nearly everything else was a total bore.

She was a leech to her parents and she knew it.

Holly had no idea whatsoever how she had gotten here, so her mind was of no use either. She was blindly trusting a random droid/man/thing, so much that she was following him to God knows where in whatever direction the planet's poles dictated. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she was even _on_ Earth anymore; this had to be Arrakis. It just _had to._

 _Please, if I had to be sent anywhere, let it be somewhere I'm familiar with._

Holly would throw a fit if it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello again! I am glad to present another chapter.

Thanks goes out to the reviewer for the previous chapter, Time Lady Tinkerbell: I appreciate your feedback. I'm honestly flattered by what you think of the story, and somewhat surprised, because in some aspects, we seem to be thinking on the same wavelength.

I hope all of you enjoy this chapter, and feel free to give me feedback; both positive and negative are appreciated.

Disclaimer: I have not gained the rights to this fantastic franchise overnight. If I had, there would be no point to this fanfiction.

42.

The twin suns of the bizarre desert world, which Holly was loath to admit was definitely _not_ Arrakis, gleamed brightly in the otherwise barren sky. She had only recently realized that there _were_ two suns; she was not in the habit of staring at the stars around which she was currently orbiting (she didn't much like the idea of going blind), and it was only because of a comment offered by C-3PO that she even glanced skyward.

No wonder it was sweltering hot; two stars that close to Earth would definitely turn it to this desolate wasteland.

Holly had, by now, come to terms with the fact that she was no longer in North America, or the Sahara (not that she ever was in the Sahara). It had taken a while, yes, but a glance at the sky had slain her hopes of this being a dramatic and extravagant ploy to fool her.

Neither was particularly likely, but she would have preferred to remain on her own planet.

Holly had long since given up trying to find an answer to all of her questions; she was much too tired, much too hungry, and much, much too thirsty. She could not recall the last time she felt the cool, refreshing wave of comfort that was water on the tongue. Her sweaty clothes and dry skin did not help; she wondered what that little droid was talking about when he 'said' that he was looking for settlements the other way: Who would even consider settling here, of all places? For miles and miles, Holly could see nothing but a vast ocean of sand. She pitied anyone actually living here.

She gripped Steven's straps firmly in two tight fists. The poor bag had gone through a lot with her, and for that, Holly was immensely grateful; she could not imagine being without his comforting weight on her back. Comforting operatively, of course: she would be physically more comfortable with nothing hanging from her aching shoulders, but at least she knew that she still had her books.

Holly had a habit of turning to books when nothing else provided familiarity. Surprising, knowing Holly, obviously. Unfortunately, all of what she had was old and tattered, or else so scrutinized by Holly's own eyes that she had memorized nearly every line. She had been lugging around old novels for a few weeks now, unwilling to leave them in her locker, or on her bookshelf. Maybe, once she and her golden droid companion found somewhere to rest, she could read.

That was a slight consolation.

The two of them, Holly and 3PO, had had much time to discuss many things; namely, what it was like onboard her fantasy starship, what it was like on this horrid planet, how confused they both were. It seemed that they had much in common, aside from the fact that the two droids had apparently crashed on this planet in an escape pod that actually existed.

"What was it like on your ship, Captain?" was the question that started it all.

"Huh?" Holly asked. She had not been paying attention to him—merely staring off into the distance. "Oh, sorry. Yeah. _Enterprise._ Well, it's hard to say; I don't have much to compare it to. At least, not much that you'd understand, anyway."

"Yes, that it probably right," 3PO agreed. "For a Captain, you do seem to know surprisingly little about space."

Holly acted appalled. She thought she was doing a pretty good job of acting, even though she did not like the fact that it was all fallacious. "Excuse me, Metal Man, I am a Captain! Do you assume that I would have risen to this rank in ignorance? I am very well educated in the celestial layout of my _own_ galaxy; forgive me if I am not so familiar with yours."

3PO apologized. "I meant no disrespect, of course, Captain. It is as much a mystery to me why you are here as it is to you."

Holly's expression softened. "I know, 3PO," she said sincerely. And this was really sincere—she knew perfectly well how unfamiliar this situation was to the both of them. "We're both looking for answers, just to a different question. I know that everything can't be forty-two."

"Miss, are you quite alright? In my experience, not many things _are_ forty-two," he said in what she could only guess was a perplexed manner. "Is it so different in your galaxy?"

She chuckled. "No, my friend; it's a saying. Don't think much of it; my sayings certainly don't seem to have much significance here."

"I believe you are quite right."

42.

Holly turned to the affectionately-dubbed Metal Man companion and halted in her sluggish steps when she realized that he had stopped a few feet back. "3PO, what's going on?" They had stopped on a particularly high dune; it seemed, also, that many years ago, a dinosaur-like being had also stopped around this same place and then promptly died, for if there was ever a larger skeleton on Earth than the one before her now, it had not yet been uncovered.

"That malfunctioning little twerp! He tricked me into going this way, but he'll do no better," came the droid's dismayed reply. Holly stared.

"3PO, what do you mean, 'tricked you?' You chose to go this way; I was there!" Holly argued. "What did you expect; that we were going to come across a glistening city, with people welcoming us with open arms?" Holly was honestly not surprised that their search was in vain. But, she hadn't really known any better where to go, so following was better than nothing.

"That would have been much preferred, Miss Dianna," he grumbled, turning round, knocking sand from his joints. There had been mild winds, brushing sand across their bodies, which caused Holly to be thankful of the protection her glasses provided. "Though I doubt there are any settlements near here. Oh, I should have known!"

They were both silent for a moment, just standing and resting without actually resting. The lucky thing about being a droid was that you didn't get sweaty or tired or uncomfortable. Then, 3PO spoke again.

"Wait, what's that?" Holly turned her head to look in his direction. Glasses dirty and eyes weary, she did not know what he was looking at or addressing. "A transport! We're saved!"

Holly hurriedly removed her glasses and wiped them on the shirt underneath her hoodie. Since her blue Star Trek hoodie was lighter in color than her black shirt underneath, she had decided to keep it on (and because she had told C-3PO that it was her uniform). Placing the frames back on her nose, she peered into the distance.

Sure enough, there was a bright flare, as if people were signaling with mirrors. Holly assumed that they were not mirrors, because nearly anything metal or glass could cause such an illusion; it was highly improbable that anyone even knew they were out there, let alone try to commune with them.

3PO began to wave one arm above his head frantically. Holly was warier, not quite ready to encounter another probably equally confusing being as this one, even if they were people. "Over here!" the bronze droid yelled. "Help! Please, help!"

Holly, gazing intently into the distance, shook her head. "3PO, why are you so sure they're here to help?" Her question was met by no answer, however, as the golden droid obnoxiously yelled. His tendency to be hopeful at the wrong time was beginning to wear on Holly, even though she had only known him for was she perceived as a few hours. She sort of wished that she had followed the blue droid instead.

As the object grew nearer, Holly discovered that her wariness was not without precedent; the thing that they both looked towards was a vehicle, though she could see no wheels. It strongly resembled a Vogon ship in that it had no great detail on the outside; it was gargantuan in dimensions, however, and as it drew closer and closer to their positions, Holly found herself gazing upward in awe.

This awe was not alone, however, for she also felt a great dread: this machine and those who controlled it surely had ill intentions. Much in the same way as C-3PO had evoked feelings of slight irritation and emitted an aura of natural harmlessness, this vehicle caused her fear. Though she had never really been one for cowering, Holly wanted to hide; the problem was, however, that there was nowhere _to_ hide.

And, of course, the droid beside her was obviously catching their attention.

C-3PO had bought her story about being the captain of a disabled ship; would whoever was driving this thing do the same? It got closer and closer with each passing moment, not particularly fast but still too quickly for her liking. But, if she could really pull off this 'starship captain' gig, she could save their skins….

She squared her shoulders and attempted to look much less tired, though she would never know how successful she was (basically, she wasn't successful). Holly straitened her posture and held her head high, picturing any captain she had ever seen, and trying to ooze the same easy confidence they had.

Oh, what was she talking about? The only captains she had ever seen were professional actors.

She was nowhere near that good at acting.

Still, she did have the 'uniform'. At least, she had a hoodie impersonating a uniform. Maybe on this planet, it'll pass for an outlandish uniform. And, hey, they may even be fooled by her 'I'm from another galaxy….apparently' tale.

Well, a girl could hope, even if it is in vain.

Lost in her thoughts, Holly had not realized that a deep rumbling, coming from the approaching machine, had reached her ears. It only really caught her attention when it was accompanied by a high-pitched sort of screeching and snickering.

 _What could that possibly be?_ Holly had NEVER heard anything akin to this sound before. Squinting, which did not do much to protect her eyes from the harsh light, she looked closely at the machine, and she could vaguely make out the outline of men. Either her perception of depth was greatly skewed, or she was correct in the assumption that he height of these hooded creatures was nearly half her own.

Were they….kids? Their movements were jerky, as if it took great effort to move as quickly as they did, and the robes they wore over their head and body covered any discernable face. Only when they were nearly fifteen meters away could Holly see that there was no face….just two glowing red eyes.

It would have been menacing, if she hadn't seen them move or heard their voices. She nearly laughed, before she realized that it would be ungainly. Or, was it un-captainly?

Holly did not realize that she had been backing away until a loud zap caused her to sharply turn her head to her left. Where 3PO had previously been standing and waving quite foolishly, he now stood rigid, with blue bolts of electricity surrounding him as if they were shackles. The sudden loss of motion caused her companion to lock his knees and arms, which subsequently sent his static body falling. She rushed forward to catch him before she realized that, if she even touched the golden metal plating, she would be shocked. Shocked literally, that is, not just surprised.

So she let him fall. It could not have done _much_ damage, that fall, because he was shaped like a human, and therefore should not be so fragile as to crumble at the slightest impact. The hollow noise that echoed from within him caused her to wince and she felt a momentary pang of sympathy—he did not deserve to be shot, even if he was rather foolish.

The hissing and snickering from the child-beings, these sand beings, was right behind her. Holly whirled around and saw them scuttle quickly past her, nearly flippantly. If she was relieved that they did not chase after her, it was short lived, because they soon reached 3PO. There were about five of them, she would guess, and it took the entire group to lift the poor robot's lifeless form.

Holly's next action caused her to plummet further into the realm of madness and foolish decisions: she rushed after their retreating forms. "3PO!" she cried as she ran.

There must be a few things known of Holly: she did not often act foolishly. Not when something important was at stake. If course, that 'important' thing may vary; one day, it's an animal's life, the next, it's an exam grade. The day after, it's a funny robot she just met. However, if something endangered this certain thing, she would abandon all of her precious logic in an instant. After the deed was done, she would gather her logic back into her mind and spend the following day regretting her rash decision.

Basically, the usually calm, composed Holly would not hesitate to help something she truly cared for. This was why her reaction was surprising: she had only known 3PO for a few hours, half a day, at most. Why was she so eager to help him, then?

It could have been because there was nobody else there to do it for her, or no one else there for her to worry over.

Regardless, she hurried quickly over to the droid and his captors. She grabbed one by its shoulder and yanked back. "Don't touch him!" she said forcefully. "Let him go, now! By my right as captain of the _U.S.S. Enterprise,_ drop him now!"

They answered her with a series of unintelligible hisses, batting her hands away with pesky little arms. At least, attempting to; she was much larger, and therefore, at least a little bit stronger, than they were. One of them fighting her could easily be dealt with. However, her struggle caught the attention of the rest of the bizarre company, and she found her arms being pulled back by little kids.

How embarrassing.

She continued to thrash at the moving group, reaching desperately for 3PO. Maybe he had an 'on' button that she could press to reboot him? She could flip a switch and everything, aside from the sand beings themselves, would be perfectly fine. The problem was, she had not seen any sort of lever or button on 3PO at all that could serve as a starter. In that case, there was _no_ way she could hope to repair her new friend.

Holly felt a sharp jab in her side, firmer than one of their gloved hands. She glanced down, and in the hands of one of the little men shoving her, there was an object that she could only describe as being a pistol; there was a trigger, a barrel (even if the barrel was oddly shaped) and a handle. She did not see any loading mechanism, however, but she didn't really have much time to search.

As it was harshly jabbed into her ribcage, an intense stinging and shock was sent through her, originating in her side. It was not the same gun with which they had shot C-3PO, because there were no blue sparks, but she felt her body go rigid all the same. Holly willed her arms to move with all of her might, but no power in her body could make it shift from its state of rest; she crumpled to the ground promptly and ungracefully.

The side on which she was laying was not the side that she had been shot on, thankfully, for while the rest of her body was relatively numb, a sharp throbbing now resided in the entire left side of her body, sending waves of pain that served to remind her that "I hurt you and you can't do anything about it."

So far as Holly could tell, the little sand beings just continued to carry her unfortunate friend away from her. Were they leaving her behind? What use did they have for 3PO and not for her? Of course, that could be anything, because Holly was basically useless.

Their actions, along with their sand freighter, suggested that they were some sort of scavengers. That would explain why they took Holly's robotic companion, yet merely left her after ridding themselves of her futile struggle. But there must not have been that plentiful a resource in the field they were searching; Holly and 3PO had walked for miles without seeing another soul, or robot, aside from the hostility of the sand beings. Why would they spend their lives doing something so useless? Unless…unless the droids were right in thinking that there were settlements somewhere around here, and they just hadn't found them yet.

But if the sand beings found them, that meant that they had been so close….those things, those _rats,_ had ruined their chances of finding civilization in this dust bowl. Those filthy _rats_ had taken 3PO and left her for dead, basically, or at least dying. She would dehydrate sooner than she would die from her injuries. She only had to suffer three days before that happened.

Oh, what was she thinking about? The effects of this weapon would surely wear off before then, and she can find whatever village they had been heading to. The only thing she hoped was that it was not filled with those horrid sand rats as well.

Holly closed her eyes and commenced a review of her day, scolding her every action for being so reckless and ill-planned. Like nearly every time she did this, she vowed to take more consideration in the future to be careful. Like nearly every time she did this, she knew that her vow would never be upheld.

42.

It took Holly a few moments to realize that she was dreaming. For one thing, she was already in a weird enough situation and she was no longer mentally fit to discern the real from the surreal. For another, she had never been particularly gifted in the art of identifying dreams anyway. The fact that she did so now was a feat in itself.

She had never been one to dream of the preposterous; usually, she would see brief images of something related to a current event or activity. This instance seemed to be an exception: Holly could make absolutely no sense of what was happening around her.

Holly gripped the edges of the chair in which she sat with tight fists, the skin around her knuckles white. She could feel that her body was tense, but there was nothing she could do about it. The chair itself was rather odd: it was made up of entirely angles, grey except for the black backing. She observed the scene from a third person point of view, the way she saw every dream.

That meant she could see the entire room she was seated in.

From what she could tell, it was an exact replica of the _Enterprise's_ bridge, with the same red and black railings, and perfect grey walls. The black panels with colored touch-screen controls were exactly as she remembered them; after regaining consciousness, Holly was surprised at the ability of her subconscious to recall command center to perfection. There were officers rushing around her, a mix of red, yellow, and blue shirts, and she was shouting orders; those orders, however, remained unheard to her ears. The officers seemed to follow them anyway.

There was a great rocking motion, much like the really bad camera shaking that was supposed to represent a photon torpedo hitting the ship's shield in the show. However, it was different than just watching it, because she actually _felt_ the harsh rocking. She fell from her tense perch on the captain's chair, stumbling briefly before gripping tight to the rail as the ship steadied itself.

Even after the commotion stopped, her vision continued to rock back and forth. The scene shifted and her eyes began to quickly lose focus of the images in front of her. The colors blended together to form large blurs, before the image completely faded into nothingness.

In the 'real' world (though she was not completely sure this wasn't some elaborate dream, either) her eyes shot open.

Again, her eyes took many moments to adjust to the intense sunlight of this odd un-Arrakis place. Her thoughts were still dismally foggy, mulling over the dream. She was only now beginning to understand the setting and some of the events that took place, though it quickly faded from her memory. The harder she tried to remember what happened, the more it slipped through her fingers.

What she didn't understand was why, even after the dream ended, her world was still shifting rapidly before her eyes.

It was as though she had suffered a jarring impact; one moment, she was blissfully unaware of anything potentially harmful, and the next, she was thrashing around wildly, jerking her limbs and swinging at anything she could have.

It was this jarring impact that brought her attention to the arms around her and the hissing and squeaking of the sand rat beings around her. She felt their hands grip her shoulders and support her back as she was carried in the same position as her friend 3PO. Holly was being lifted above the ground by the rat creatures, their glowing eyes the only menacing aspect of their body, though they were horrid all the same.

Tossing and turning, Holly swung her head to the left and the right, seeing the large freighter quickly approaching. Or, rather, she was quickly approaching _it,_ unwillingly. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck on that thing….where these short beings undoubtedly came from.

Wait….if they came from the freighter, then that must have been where they were going when they took C-3PO! She was being carried by the same people, she was sure by both the noise and their hooded heads. Even if that was the last place she wanted to be, Holly was certain that it was the last place 3PO wanted to be, too.

She could lead a rescue mission! How exciting….technically. Exciting in the 'dangerous tasks that the skilled hero must overcome' and 'probably going to end up killing herself, judging by her luck (or lack of it)' kind of way.

Holly stopped struggling. Since she was in the same position as 3PO, she would be taken to the same place as him….hopefully. She was an actual person, and she had fully regained consciousness and control of her limbs, but other than that, there shouldn't be much of a difference. They must've taken him, dropped him off, then retrieved her. In the meanwhile, she had fallen asleep, but they couldn't have discerned awake with asleep when she was been motionless anyway.

Finally, she would be given the chance to be of some use.

They neared the freighter and dumped her at the entrance. It was harsh and did not bode well for her still aching side, but it was not unbearable. Besides, Holly could handle it. She was a starship captain, after all.

At least, she pretended to be. In this land of make-believe and two suns, it's good enough.

"You could've been a bit nicer," she grumbled as she stood. She observed the entrance.

It had a door that descended like a drawbridge. The entire vehicle was up above the ground on the wheels of a tank, or at least similar to that, and the interior was darker than the outside, which was actually saying much, as the metal shell of the freighter stood as a sharp contrast to the sand. Holly's eyes, adjusted to the brightness outside, were not dilated enough to see any of the inside clearly.

Her captors poked her back harshly with the tip of their guns—it was similar to before in all but the fact that this time, they didn't actually shoot her, for which she was immensely grateful. Holly stepped onto the platform that was both a door and a ramp, walking forward and passing into the shadow that was the inside of the sand rat's Vogon freighter.

Quickly and impulsively, she snatched her glasses away from her face and shoved them into the pocket of her hoodie. They were the only thing metal on her—that, and the IPod that she may or may not still have in her bag, and she did not want them to scavenge it from her.

Speaking of, where was her precious Steven? She did not feel its familiar weight on her shoulders. Turning around sharply, she saw the retreating backs of the small men, speaking amongst each other as one pulled a lever. The drawbridge door began to lift and close, and though she could barely discern man from machine without her glasses, Holly was certain that she saw the faded blue that was her trusty Steven.

She dashed forward, running to the edge of the door even as it rose. They had been moving slowly and leisurely, not afraid of anything, which was understandable. Unarmed, Holly did not pose much of a threat. Yet, she could act swiftly, because they were still within arm's reach, and the rat holding her precious bag was closest to her, being in the back of their group.

Holly reached out and snatched it quickly, taking the short thing by surprise. Elated by her success and now much higher off the ground than the small men, she rushed back to avoid any assault on their part. There was now no way they could get to her.

Unless they pulled the lever.

 _Oh, please don't let my brilliant plan backfire…._

Yes, it was brilliant. Obviously. Holly had taken many years in solitude, hiding away like a hermit in a secluded tower, planning this act to the millionth decimal, graphing it multiple times on the x, y, and z axis. She had its function and inverse function memorized, knew the y value to the tenth power, and had reduced all of her planned motions down to a math, rather than a science.

Sarcasm flowed like an ocean through her brain. She prayed that they did not place so much value on her bag to stop and retrieve it.

After a few tense moments comprised of Holly huddling in what she thought was a corner, staring anxiously at the diminishing gap between the door and the sky, it slammed shut, the loud echo berating her ears. There must be a lot of hard surfaces, for it to echo to that extent.

Well, she did think it was a scavenger ship in a _desert._ She shouldn't have expected _too_ much decorative and comfortable furniture.

Good thing she didn't. With the planet not being Arrakis, or even the desert planet of Vulcan, she had had enough let-downs for one day.

Holly pulled her glasses from her pocket quickly and slid them on her face. She was in complete darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust, which they could not seem to be able to do quick enough. She slid down onto the floor very slowly so as not to accidentally sit on something offending, surprised to find the floor oddly cool. She would have expected it to be roasting within the vehicle _. They must have a cooling system_ , she figured, _and a heating system for the nighttime_.

Speaking of, how cold did this planet get at night? There couldn't be that many hours left in the day. Was this like a Mercury, where one side was perpetually scolding and the other perpetually freezing, or did it rotate on an axis? She knew that, in the deserts on Earth, the air conserved no heat, so it froze at night. Was this planet, if that was what it even was, like that?

That led her to question another point; was this planet strictly desert? Or, were there multiple continents, and was this just the worst one to be stranded in? It was perfectly conceivable that she was simply in the Africa or Middle East of this planet.

Hey, she may even find CHOAM. Even though this isn't Arrakis….Holly really must learn to stop humoring impossibilities.

She sighed deeply. By now, her eyes had mostly adjusted. She could see around her a gallery of old scraps of metal—coils, bolts, screws, sheets of metal and the like—with a few complete droids scattered around here and there. If the two suns and the two functioning droids from earlier had not convinced her of the reality of this situation, this amount of robots certainly did—many of the droids were functional, as well. There she was seated closest to one that looked mostly like a trash bin with feet. It creeped her out, possibly even more than the glowing eyes of the sand rats.

Under no circumstances should a trash bin be permitted to walk freely. It was positively outlandish and nearly inconceivable.

Although, on this world, what wasn't?

She observed the other droids with great interest. They all seemed restrained in one way or another, for although all of them saw her, none approached, if they could (some had missing limbs—she counted three legless torsos. Not Legolas torsos, mind you, _legless_ ). Holly pondered briefly the nature of these droids and whether or not they were hostile. If they were, they didn't seem in much a position to do anything about it.

Holly remained firmly planted in her small corner, regardless.

She began to dig through her bag. Now that her pupils were fully adjusted, the inside seemed comfortably illuminated, slightly dim; this was a relief, for she had (unfortunately) begun to grow used to the blinding exterior lighting. She could easily see her books, and for once, she had no interest in them.

At the bottom of her bag lay her IPod. Holly hardly ever had use for it, aside from listening to music. Her battery, because she had charged it the previous night, was at a ripe ninety-four percent, and its clock read exactly 11:30 P.M.

No wonder Holly was tired.

She decided to power off her IPod, stowing it away where she had found it. Holly did not want to waste the limited battery, and although there were power cells everywhere, none seemed compatible for her technology.

Again, Holly sighed. It had been a long day. If C-3PO was here, she would find him in the morning. For now, her mind was much too addled with amazement, disbelief, and sleep deprivation to be of any use in a rescue. What little sleep she may have gained from the blaster shot seemed to be null in comparison to how long she had been walking.

She let her eyes close slowly, feeling as though they were made of lead and, before she even took off her glasses, Holly was fast asleep.

42.

There is a reason for all that I put Holly through. If it seems unlikely for her to be on the Sandcrawler, that's because it is, but there is still a reason for it.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, again! Thanks to all six of you who reviewed for the previous chapters; I always enjoy reading your feedback.

Disclaimer: I recently saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens. If I had had any input pertaining to the plot, I would have included R2 much more throughout the movie. So, obviously, it wasn't mine.

Chapter Three:

If Holly did find sleep that 'night,' (she used the term 'night' operatively, for it was night where she had once been, but broad daylight where she was now) it was neither plentiful nor of any quality. She woke once after a brief nap and had found a nearly comfortable position in which to lay, halfway on her side and resting on her bag, but her eyes did not close, not even once.

Deep in thought, her dark eyes flicked absently from one robot to another. She was resting, yes, but it was not the best rest she could get; however, finally being away from sand, scorching heat, and blinding light, she could finally think about where she was.

Holly had not, as of yet, gotten the chance to actually consider what had happened. She was in one place one moment, but in a different place the next. While the former had been comfortable and familiar, the latter was a wholly unpleasant, hostile environment throughout which danger seemed to pervade. It took no great feat of the mind to conclude which Holly preferred, or which she would return to in a heartbeat.

How did she return? Holly could not even consider, for a moment, staying in this horrid place; her home had been the small town she had grown up in. Of course, she had yearned to leave ever since she had learned that there was somewhere else to go, but Holly had only ever thought of University. She knew much about the world's geography, the people who lived there, and their culture. At least, she knew enough to conclude that she was currently nowhere she had studied before. There was the slightest chance that she had been stranded on an island with pygmy natives and captors dressed as Star Wars characters, but that was as unlikely as automatically returning home.

Holly had considered the possibility of being on another world while she had been tired and miserable, preoccupied with lifting her leg to take another step. Now, she realized just how ludicrous that notion was; she thought back to what she could have been thinking and scoffed. Obviously, she needed to train herself further in the art of common sense usage in desperate situations.

What of the droids, or people, or whatever they were, whom she had met here? Holly had grown so attached enough to one in the short time that she knew him to allow herself to be captured by the sand rats in the hopes of rescuing him. Of course, she had not dropped the idea, but she was no longer so adamant about saving him. Mainly, what hindered her was the question of how: How could she actually escape this place, metal robot in tow or not? As she looked around, there were no levers, buttons, or panels that she could pull to try and lower the door.

C-3PO had not seemed fake. Granted, he had not seemed particularly real, but that was neither here nor there; what had Holly to compare him to? She was no great judge of robot character, but then again, it was not his _character_ that proved whether he was real or not.

That was completely true, even while it was entirely false.

Holly had effectively confused herself now. To be honest, she was still too tired to make full use of the brain she was sure she had somewhere up in her head.

Another aspect of her odd journey was her blatant lie of captainship. What of it? Why had she ever thought that lying was a good idea? Holly seldom lied, and when she did, it only ever about the most trivial of things. She had no idea how good she was at the whole 'false front' type of disguise—her preferred method of remaining incognito was just to remain unseen entirely—and messing up could mean a _really_ bad punishment, if anybody even believed her anyway. The only person she had told was C-3PO and if she had told the actual character from the movies, there would be no real quarrel; no-one would be any the wiser. However, it was so unlikely that this was the case that Holly would need an Infinite Improbability Drive to even consider it.

Of course, all of this _was_ unlikely. She might as well be on the Starship Heart of Gold for all her sanity was worth.

Holly internally yelled. Even if she wasn't on Earth, _why_ did it have to be some planet that she was entirely unfamiliar with? Whoever controlled her messed up destiny (assuming that this wasn't all just a really long and vivid dream, of course) certainly did not put the odds in her favor; if it were Arrakis, she was sure that here was a bit of the geography stored in her memory to tell where she was. If there wasn't, she wouldn't be thought a complete idiot by not knowing anything about the planet itself or the universe they were in.

Holly did not like this _AT ALL._ She knew that there must have been at least one Star Wars fan out there who would be stupid enough to be ecstatic to be in her shoes right now; to be honest, she would have been ecstatic to be in theirs, and would gladly swap with them.

Wait…. _Oh, forget it,_ one part of herself told another part of herself. _You're an idiot when you haven't had enough sleep._

Holly knew that she was right.

She had hoped, at least, to be somewhere she could relate to. The three desert planets that she knew about the most were Arrakis, of course, Vulcan, and Gallifrey. And there was only part of Gallifrey that was a desert, anyway. None, as she understood, orbited two suns. If only she were Clare….her friend would definitely know if there was some desert planet in the Star Wars world that had two suns, where two main characters crashed.

Now, why did she have the feeling that she was missing some major point?

There was a sudden rustling to her left. Holly had not realized that she was so dazed that she had begun to ignore the general noise of the robots or robotesque things around her until it became unnaturally loud. She propped herself up on her elbows, craning her neck to peer at the electronics. She was lying next to a shelf around which she could not see, but that did not prove to be _too_ bothersome, because the moving thing soon rounded the corner and came into her line of sight.

Holly was familiar with this droid. In front of her rolled the short trash-bin-ish, white and blue bleeping robot that had stormed away from his golden companion when first she met them both.

"R2?" The softness of her own voice surprised her; she felt as though she was dying of thirst and her throat was undoubtedly dry, but she had no experience with water deprivation to this extent. "R2, over here!" Holly tried for a more forceful voice this time. The little droid shifted slightly as he slowly continued on his way, beeping and rolling towards her.

"Oh, I never thought I'd be glad to see a familiar trash can again," she sighed. Holly had entertained the possibility that he had found a settlement and, well, settled. "I'm guessing your search turned out negative, huh?"

R2 beeped, and while she did not understand any of his words, she knew what had happened. These sand rats had captured him, probably a bit before they had captured herself and 3PO. "Your foolish friend is probably here, too, you know. Though you seem no wiser than him." He replied in what Holly could only guess was an indignant disagreement.

Just then, there was unexpected movement out of the corner of her eye. Nearly every robot was shifting a bit, but this caught her attention because of the familiar gold glint that was reflected into her eyes, complete with the golden eyes that lit up in the bronze head.

"R2?" came a mechanical voice. Oh, how it was a comfort to hear that voice again! She had been so lonely for those many hours, too scared to walk around and accidentally stumble across a hostile alien and too tired to bother anyway. "R2-D2, it is you! It _is_ you!"

There was something about the sincere happiness in his voice that made Holly smile. "Hello, 3PO," she called affectionately, hoping that he could actually hear her.

"Oh, Captain Troi! How wonderful it is to see you both again! What a turn this odd adventure has taken," C-3PO stood, shaking off a few loose coils as he approached the two of them. Holly crouched, leaning towards R2 and extending a sunburnt hand to pat the droid.

She had not realized just how badly the suns had damaged the exposed skin on her body, which was only her face and hands, but the skin there was a flaming red. Hell, even the tips of her ears were burnt! She could feel, without actually touching, the way that the heat radiated from her skin and as she pressed a cool palm to her face, the flesh felt boiling. "Indeed," Holly agreed. "At least, I'm not stuck out in the sun, being burnt alive. It's worse than a climate control failure on _Voyager_ or something. Have either of you got any idea where we could possibly be?"

Holly watched as the lights of 3PO's eyes (which were still a bit creepy, she had to admit) flickered, almost like blinking. "We might be on a scavenger transport, ma'am."

"You don't need to call me 'ma'am', 3PO. Just Hol—Deanna is fine. Captain Deanna." Damnit. She had almost blown her cover. She really should be more careful in future. She couldn't afford any mess-ups now that she was so deep in this lie. "Um. Anyway, what do you mean, scavenger? Scavenger for robots?"

"I would assume, Captain. The evidence certainly seems to suggest such."

"Then, why am I here?" In case you couldn't tell, Holly was not a robot. If she was, she wouldn't be suffering from a fatal sunburn. Okay, she may be exaggerating _slightly,_ but there was no worse torture in the world than the agony of burnt, dead skin. "I'm not exactly made of metal."

Holly suddenly thought of Martha Jones from Doctor Who. She was beginning a flashback to a happier time before 3PO replied. "That is the confusing part. I assume you won't be salvaged to make new droids, of course, but that doesn't mean you won't be sold….as a slave. While R2-D2 and I are traveling through a conveyer belt, further and further towards the inferno, you'll be property….oh dear. We are unlucky, aren't we, R2?"

The droid in question beeped in response. The more she spoke with the pair, the more she was convinced that these were not actors. The lines didn't sound rehearsed, and they were spoken without any suspicious pause. Holly was no expert at detecting droid fallacy, but she felt as though she were right.

The problem was, she didn't know if being 'right' was better or worse.

"3PO," Holly began hesitantly, "do you really think I'll be sold as a slave?" She didn't particularly like the idea of working for someone without pay, not of her choosing. Who would?

"I certainly hope not," said the droid. He shifted slightly, his awkward movements more obvious in the cramped room. "But it does seem to be the only other explanation."

 _Another explanation,_ grumbled Holly mentally, _would be telling me what actually happened. Why I am actually here._ "Are you certain that this planet has slaves?"

"It would not be unlikely," the droid stated factually. "If I am correct and this truly is an Outer Rim planet, the central powers are not as prevalent here as they would be in the Core Worlds. That could mean many slaveholders hiding their occupation when the occasional fleet does arrive, though that all depends on if it is illegal or not."

"And is it illegal?"

"Unfortunately, I do not know."

42.

A few hours passed in near silence. Occasionally, either Holly or C-3PO would make a quiet comment, possibly in the hopes of starting a conversation, but the other would reply shortly and to the point, allowing no room for continuation.

Holly sat propped up against the small area of exposed wall, the back of her 'uniform' hoodie undoubtedly becoming riddled with grease and oil. She had her knees bent and pulled to her chest, hugging them tightly with one arm while the other fiddled absentmindedly with the strap of Steven.

It just dawned on her how positively ludicrous the name for her bag was. Steven? Really?

It was too late to change it now. Steven forever held a place in her heart as the bag that survived the trip here.

Will he survive There and Back Again?

Holly sighed. This was not the time to be making bad puns and she knew it, but there seemed to be nothing better to do. Talking to 3PO would just bring more misery and worry, for that was the aura that he practically oozed now. She didn't want her worries to kindle into fears.

R2 had shut down. That was a wise decision, and Holly found herself wishing that she was able to shut off her own brain and body just for a few hours. Oh, to sleep again….that would truly be heaven.

Something must've happened on the way to heaven.

A chirping to her right caused Holly to raise her head. She had previously been pretending to sleep, if only to make 3PO think she was resting. She peered into the darkness of the corner, struggling to see what had made the noise; it had been small and rather insignificant. It was the type of thing that she would ignore, because this room was filled with beeping and buzzing, but this was so close to her ear.

The culprit was what Holly could only name as being a bug. The little guy was metal, of course, like nearly everything there, and he had not escaped the wrath of grime and dirt to make the metal's shine dull. He had a small main body that was shaped like a pod, and three two-jointed legs on each side of the body. He was perhaps a little larger than her palm, much more intricate than anything she had seen here before. The two green bulbs he had for eyes seemed to stare up at her intently, harmlessly.

"Hey, little guy," she cooed softly. He crawled from the pile of junk onto her outstretched hand. His pointy feet, with movements quick and squeaking (for he was obviously old and rusty), tickled her palm and evoked a small, choked chuckle from her throat. She smiled, truly for the first time she could remember since leaving home. Even if he was a bug, this little guy was so….harmless. Or at least, mostly harmless.

The bug chirped. His body shook, as if he was a dog shaking off water, and he ran around her palm as if testing his metal limbs. The legs came down to sharp points which poked her, but not hard; it tickled, if anything. If she focused intently, she saw a little face, but all it had were two large eyes, which saw everything, and a pincer type of mouth. His back, the pod shaped torso, bore an insignia.

She could not identify it, but the image burnt into the metal resembled some sort of constellation; she recognized the pattern of stars connected by a thin line. There was also a designation, or what looked like a designation, next to it, in small print. She squinted to see what it was.

"XE-742," she read aloud. "Hmm….is that what you're called?" The bug chirped in response. "You know, back on Earth, Xe is the designation of an element," Holly said, remembering the physics homework that she had not yet gotten a chance to do. "Xenon. Are you Xenon?" Again, her little bug chirped. This time, it sounded a bit warier. However, after a moment of hesitation, he chirped more happily, buzzing. It was all very quiet, and she could barely here him above the constant rumbling of the vehicle and the droids around her. "Hello, Xenon. I'm Holly."

The bug began to race up her arm, taking her by surprise; as he crawled over her hoodie sleeves, his feet sent little tingles up her arm. Her other hand rose to intercept him, because honestly, she wasn't particularly wild about the idea of having a bug, electronic or otherwise, crawling up her arms. He came to rest at her shoulders, where her hand paused. He did nothing but sit there, emitting a quiet hum that reached her ear softly. His movements had been quick but squeaky, for he must've been here a long time.

Holly watched as his six legs folded and retracted into his torso, forming a box around him. The lights in his flickered off, and he settled on her shoulder in silence, shut down. He tucked his head into his body and remained still.

She took him in her palm, holding him gently. He was….odd. But wasn't everything? She was in a prison cell, basically, with two functional droids and a bunch of old scraps; who can say what can and cannot be? Mankind hadn't even invented hover boards and 2015 is a month past; she didn't know what was plausible and what wasn't.

She had long since crossed the bridge to insanity and left her old world of common sense long behind. Even if this wasn't real and she was being incredibly gullible, those pulling the strings behind this ploy have done one thing: rid Holly of any certainty.

42.

For a while, everything was the same. C-3PO and Holly sat in silence as R2 was powered down and Holly had slipped her little bug into a small pocket of her bag. Steven now sat lonely in the corner, staring at her with an unreadable (nonexistent) gaze. Even though she could not see the eyes with which he watched her, she knew that Steven was thoroughly dissatisfied with their current position.

As was she, actually. Like owner, like bag, it seems.

Holly was suddenly thrown to the side, her body at the mercy of momentum; the laws of physics have betrayed her rest. She landed atop Steven, realizing that the toss was the result of being unprepared for the sudden stop of the vehicle she was in.

The freighter had reached its destination.

Holly was not the only one to notice. After she had righted herself, she stood abruptly, and she turned just in time to see 3PO jerk into motion from his stagnant position. "We've stopped," he said quietly. He thrust a hand towards R2, knocking him harshly on the bowl that Holly assumed was his head. "Wake up! Wake up!"

The little droid's lights turned on and he beeped. Holly was grateful that he didn't take as long to restart as Holly's computer did, or else they'd be waiting for nearly ten minutes while R2 went through _updates._

Holly felt a pang of sadness at the thought of her computer. She had left it in her room, all alone…who knows when she'd use it again? Her computer had all of her files….her documents….her music….

She straightened her back. She was a captain, after all; at least, she entertained the idea. Holly knew that she'd get into big trouble once somebody actually heard her badly thought-out lie, but she must humor the notion just as long as she was with C-3PO.

They all turned, Holly, 3PO, R2, and nearly every other droid, to see a larger door slide upwards as it opened. It was not the one that Holly had come in through, being on the other side of the huge room, and she hadn't even noticed that that wall was, in fact, a door.

She would have usually considered such things as this. It was an obvious sign to her that she had certainly not gotten enough sleep.

Holly had no idea how long these days lasted, but they must've been longer than Earth's, even if she had arrived at early morning, because the harsh, familiar and loathed light flooding in from the opening told her that it was still daytime. She may have been in the transport freighter longer than assumed, though, because it may just be early morning.

She squinted at the invading light as around three sand rat people things (Holly really should find someone to ask about their actual name) came scuttling in. They each approached different groups of nearly functional droids, pointing at them and then to the exit while squeaking orders. They were being filed out. "We're doomed," reported 3PO.

"Undoubtedly," Holly replied, backing up against the wall. She gripped Steven tight against her chest, eyeing the rats warily.

"Do you think they'll melt us down?" 3PO's voice grew ever more worried, looking to R2 for an affirmation or denial. The droid in question beeped in response. It may have just been the same delusion Holly had suffered earlier, but she thought that the droid sounded….smug. Did he know something that they didn't? "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" the golden droid held up his hands in surrender. Holly scoffed, though she knew that there was not much he could do in defense, and that she wouldn't have done much different. "Will this ever end?"

One sand creature pointed towards Holly. Her heart began to beat frantically as she wondered what he would do with her. Would he take her where the others were going? She had still planned on helping the two other droids escape….but the rat just pointed to the rest of the room, motioning her to stay where she was. Obviously, he seemed to think that she would just remain obedient.

Maybe she would.

For a while, at least.

The rest of the occupants were filed out of the room by the creatures, who pointed wildly as if giving mad stage directions. 3PO and R2 were caught in the fray, and while Holly's eyes were still adjusting to the blinding light, she lost them in the crowd of bleeping droids, which followed the creatures as if used to this ritual.

What was going to happen? Where had they been taken? Holly assumed that they were going to be brought to a melting factory, used for scrap, as 3PO thought, or that they were to be sold to some superior power as working droids. Neither seemed to be particularly pleasurable for her two new acquaintances.

Once all of the whole, functioning droids had left with the unnamed sand creatures, Holly slung Steven over her shoulder. She was amazed, really; either these creatures were very stupid and too arrogant in their ability to catch her before she flees, or they had some secret weapon that they could use against her if she tried to escape.

She crept along the wall, sneaking to the corner of the doorframe. Peering out carefully, being sure not to let too much of her body be a possible target for alien creature spying eyes, she observed what was going on outside of their prison.

All of the droids had been lined up outside the freighter. There were many more working droids than Holly had realized, of all different (and completely weird) shapes and sizes. One looked, basically, like a sphere was chopped in half and placed on the ground with wheels and an antenna. What if this droid had been the layout of R2?

Star Wars would have changed forever….She was happy that it hadn't. That droid would be pretty impractical.

A group of sand creatures was patrolling the area in front of the droids, observing and inspecting their state, probably making sure they don't run away. One departed from the group and began to walk away from the freighter, with Holly's gaze following his footsteps.

She saw a little type of igloo-ish settlement in the distance, which was roughly the same color as the sand. It was slightly taller than a full grown man, but not by much, and it seemed to be about as wide as a minivan. Was that a sand rat house?

Her assumption was proven incorrect when two human-esque figures climbed out from the entrance, seeming to come from a lower level; there must've been stairs. Did they come from the underground? There was a rocky area a bit farther that might've been a crater; perhaps they had—

Her thoughts interrupted her thoughts. _MORE HUMANS!_ At least, they looked human; they were nearly twice as tall as her alien captors, wearing white clothes instead of the dark brown of the aliens. She could not make out much without her glasses, which she had stowed away in her pocket once more. Fishing them out, she shoved them harshly onto her nose and peered at the two figures again.

As one was called back by a voice Holly could barely hear, let alone analyze, she saw that they were both men; the younger one (for he did not have grey hair, as the elder did), who was called back, bent over what she had assumed was a crater, yelling a reply back to the speaker.

 _Oh my god,_ she thought frantically. Her mind was racing, trying to formulate a plan. _Are they friendly? If I escape and talk to them, would they just give me back, of would they help me?_ She didn't like the idea of leaving either of her little droid friends, because they were the only things from this place that she had grown partially used to, and she was well aware of the fact that not all humans were pleasant. In fact, most of them weren't.

She decided on waiting. First, she would have to see what becomes of R2 and C-3PO.

The two figures, with younger one returning to the elder, made their way towards the group of creatures and droids. As they drew closer, Holly tried to get a look at their suntanned faces, possibly to see if she recognized them, but she could not place any feature to a face previously known. These people were completely unfamiliar to her.

While the younger one, who was not much more than a boy, stayed at the end of the line of droids, the elder inspected the rest of them. Holly gulped—the teenager was quiet close to her 'hiding' spot (she wasn't really hiding, per say; anyone who looked would see her easily) and she did not know if she wanted to be revealed or not.

She could hear what they were all saying. "Yeah, we'll take that red one," came the voice of the older, grey-haired man, pointing to a red-and-white droid roughly the same shape as R2. "No, not that one," he turned down the next droid, which turned out to _be_ R2, moving to the next droid—3PO.

"I suppose you're programmed for etiquette and protocol?" he asked in a loud voice. How did he know that 3PO would respond? Yeah, he looked humanoid, but that didn't mean that the electronic vocal chords worked still. Holly thought it would be funny for 3PO just to remain quiet, with the perpetually stoic look on his face.

That didn't happen. "Protocol? Why, it's my primary function, sir. I am well-versed in all the customs—" 3PO rambled on before the man cut him off.

"I have no need for a protocol droid," he stated, beginning to move on. 3PO stopped him with his reply.

"Of course you haven't, sir, not in an environment such as this. That is why I have been programmed—"

"What I really need is a droid who understands the binary language of moisture vaporators."

"Vaporators? Sir, my first job was programming binary load lifters….very similar to your vaporators in most respects."

"Can you speak Bocce?"

"Of course I can, sir. It's like a second language to me. I'm as fluent—" even Holly was aware of the fact that he was rambling. He must really have wanted to be sold.

"Yeah, all right, shut up. We'll take these two," he interrupted rudely. "Luke! Take these two over to the garage, will you? I want them cleaned up before dinner."

The boy, who had jogged to rejoin the elder, protested in a frankly whiny voice. "But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters," he said.

"You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done," the man stated. Holly began to think of him as the father, the way that the two of them spoke. "Now come on. Get to it."

"All right. Come on," he said, beckoning for 3PO to follow him. "And the red one, come on." The other droid took a moment to move, as if he were old and hardly working. "Well, come on, red, let's go!" The droid gained enough speed to catch up to the two of them. The boy, Luke, calling him 'red' perplexed Holly; the droid was mostly white. Why call him 'red,' then, if that's not its main color?

Once they were a good distance away, Holly saw R2 begin to struggle, trying to walk forward. He was trying to get to 3PO. Holly could not believe that 3PO, who merely turned, would just leave him, though 3PO did not seem to be struggling. The shorter droid was stopped when one of the sand creatures used a remote control pointed towards him, probably triggering a tracker or restraint. The C-3PO turned back around and continued walking.

Suddenly, something on the top of the red and white droid promptly blew up, catching the attention of this 'Luke.' "Uncle Owen!"

So that's what they were. Uncle and nephew. "Yeah?"

"This R2 unit has a bad motivator, look!" he said, gesturing to the smoking top.

Bad motivator? What, was he not motivated enough? Did they need to hold a pep rally and yell, 'You can do it, Red!' in an excited voice? What was all this about 'bad motivator'? They probably meant some sort of power or battery, but it was still a weird name.

"Hey, what are you trying to push on us?" the old man, 'Uncle Owen,' asked the creatures. They began rambling, probably formulating an excusing lie worse than Holly's own unbelievable captainship.

3PO tapped Luke on the shoulder, saying something that Holly did not quite catch. He pointed to R2, and Holly specifically heard the words "a real bargain." Luke called out to his uncle, "Uncle Owen, what about that one?"

R2 and 3PO would be together! The boy's uncle relayed the message and purchased the other droid, who was handed over to the two new owners. Holly felt a pang of sadness as she watched them go; she did not know what would be made of the two of them, though she assumed it had something to do with these 'moisture vaporators,' whatever they were; they would be under the same master, functioning in the same establishment.

But what of her? Holly would certainly not be sold as a droid; did they have some other use for her? Perhaps they would force her to work for them. Or sell her to someone else. Whatever they were to do, it was not something for which Holly was particularly eager. She scanned the perimeter, searching for a place to run and hide; perhaps she could evade both the creatures and the two people.

Holly found it odd, the fact that she had been searching for people for the entirety of her existence here; now, once she had found them, she feared revealing herself. The fact of the matter was, she was now, technically, property of some weird rat creatures. By their standards, at least. She had no idea what standards these men would hold her by, or if they would even acknowledge her at all. She could not hope for help from them until she knew more about them.

The only problem was, she did not know when she would get the opportunity to evaluate the situation and determine the proper course of action.

"Uncle Owen, who's that behind the sandcrawler?" a high voice called out.

Holly shot the boy a scared look. She had not realized how far from behind the door she had been leaning, but it was obviously not far enough. She did not have a plan for this turn of events.

It seemed that she did not need to, and she would not have been given the chance to enact it if she had, for both the sand rat creatures and the two men made their way towards her quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi, guys! Another chapter awaits.

Thank you to the reviewers, especially to Time Lady Tinkerbell, who sent an especially lengthy and very amusing review last chapter.

Disclaimer: In case you didn't know, I don't have a short grey beard, and I created neither Star Wars nor Indiana Jones. So, my name is not George Lucas; I've only borrowed his world for a little while. Don't worry, it'll be returned...to Disney, at least.

42.

Every eye (or, in some cases, every sensor) was automatically sent her way; Luke was pointing straight at her. Her whole body froze momentarily as she saw 3PO turn around awkwardly, with his creaking limbs, and R2 followed suit.

The man called Uncle Owen spun around, his pale robes swirling as he turned. His eyes found her immediately, she must've not been hiding very well. _Obviously._ She was not exactly in the habit of hiding while overseeing a task that she had no part of. She wanted no part of it and would have just preferred everyone and everything to go momentarily blind while she made a run for it, but that didn't happen.

 _Oh, why did you have to do that?_ She internally scolded the boy. It was only a moment before her heart began to beat again, albeit erratically, and her movements were quick and jerky as she threw herself against the wall on the other side of the "sandcrawler."

A shaking hand found the hanging strap of Steven and she gripped it tightly. It was the only thing she could actually do to stop her body from quivering with fear. Holly felt the blood rush from her face in dread as the absolute worst case scenarios ran quickly through her brain like a slideshow—the old man with a gun, all of the rat creatures with their phasers….or whatever they were, shooting her. Someone taking away her precious bag…

The older man appeared around the corner. She could see his lined face more clearly now, even as she backed farther and farther away from him. She stumbled as her feet brushed against different pieces of electronics and components, and backing into a rather tall droid, which had remained motionless throughout the entire trip, Holly stopped. Not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't go back any farther.

The man had grey hair and an unshaven face; he squinted in the light, just as Holly did. He walked forward, a confused look upon his face. "Who are you?" his voice was gruff, just as she would have pictured for a man of his age.

Holly gulped deeply. Should she answer? She had no idea what to say to this man. Most of the time, when she was extremely nervous, she had no ability to stop and think about her actions; this was no exception. However, now, she was nowhere near to just 'nervous.' No, that would be a welcome change; she was downright terrified.

She did not know what was particularly threatening about the man yet, but there was no telling what weapons he may have.

Holly was silent for some time just staring at him, her eyes wide with fear. "What is your name?" he asked, stepping closer and inspecting her attire. "Why were you near the Jawa sandcrawler?"

Even if Holly had an answer ready, she had no time to provide it; from around the corner jogged a blond boy, the one called Luke. He was maybe a bit taller than her, with slightly long hair that partially covered his eyes. With him came C-3PO, closely followed by R2; if Holly had been in any other situation, she would have wondered how exactly the two droids managed to keep up with the young man, but she thought nothing of it. She had neither the time nor the ability to. They were followed by four shorter sand rats, which Holly could only assume were the aforementioned "Jawas." What a ridiculous name.

Uncle Owen turned to the four of them and demanded, "Since when have you carried slaves?" The Jawas, as they were called, shot back their garbled reply, which Holly had no hope of understanding. His question sent a fearful thought into her mind: did he hope to purchase her? She would _not_ be enslaved, that much she knew. "Jabba the Hutt doesn't just pluck slaves from the desert," the man said.

"Captain Troi!" interjected a familiar voice. Holly's gaze shot to 3PO, who had left Luke's side and approached her. "I was afraid we were going to leave you! We simply had no hope of struggling against the sandmen, I'm afraid," he said as he neared her.

This caught the attention of both Luke and his uncle. "You're a captain?" Luke said with a slightly doubting voice. The suspicion in his tone was not unexpected to Holly, who merely nodded.

"Of course she is, Master," 3PO said in a voice that was much too cheery for the mood. "Her ship was shot down by Klingons. She crashed here, and now she's stranded."

Uncle Owen raised an eyebrow as panic, not for the first time, swept through Holly. "What ship did you command?" he demanded in a doubting tone.

"I-I commanded the _Starship Enterprise,_ " she stuttered. Oh, she was a terrible liar! Lying to droids was one thing, but to another human? She should have known that they would not believe her. She probably did, but was just too proud to acknowledge it. Even if she had, Holly would have been much to weary to fabricate any other story. "I was sent on a mission to—to the edge of the Neutral Zone to combat an outbreak of protests that had erupted there by the Klingons," she explained. Her voice betrayed her obvious lie, but there was nothing she could do about it.

"What are you talking about? What's the 'Neutral Zone'? There's no such region in this galaxy," Luke said. His voice was puzzled. "What system are you from?"

She was saved the need to reply by Owen's sharp response. "Oh, don't you see, Luke, she's lying! What captain would get herself captured by _Jawas_?" Dread and shame welled in the pit of her stomach, in part because of what they might do to her, how affronted she was by his blatant insult, and in part because of how wrong she believed lying was. For the life of her, Holly could not explain what had driven her to do this. "You were captured by them on purpose, weren't you? You wanted to steal the droids."

Technically, he wasn't wrong. Holly personally preferred the term _rescue,_ though, because by her standards, 3PO and R2 had never been the property of the Jawas to begin with, but all she could do was stutter in response.

"Captain Deanna Troi did not seek to steal us," 3PO stated, coming to her defense. "After our own pod crashed, we found her on the sand; she had recently crashed as well and, like us, had no idea where she was." R2 beeped, possibly in affirmation of what 3PO said. That's what Holly hoped, at least. "We split up, Deanna and myself going one way, while R2 approached the rocky mountains. These Jawas shot the both of us and took us to their freighter," he explained.

"Oh yeah?" Owen questioned skeptically. "And how do you know that? She told you?"

"Of course, sir. And I was there."

"Come on. You're the protocol droid; don't tell me you can't see that she's lying." He directed his next words to her. "You wanted a transport, didn't you? You obviously knew that the sandcrawlers carried droids to buyers. You wanted to steal them, possibly even after they were sold."

"I wanted no such thing!" she protested, her voice worryingly scratchy. "My escape pod crashed on this God forsaken world, and I was searching for a town with these droids ever since our paths crossed! I have no motive to steal any droid, nor anything to do with them once they were acquired. I simply wanted to find a way out of this place!"

"What system are you from?" Luke asked again. Holly paused for a fraction of a second; right when she had mustered enough courage to interject, she had to be stalled by a question she had no answer for, real or not. What did he mean by 'system?' Was that a system of government, a system of cities, or a system of…oh, she didn't know…a system of computers, for god's sake! People should really be more specific with their questions, for the sake of her liberty.

"I'm from the Betazed System," she stated. Honestly, it was the first thing that came to mind, even before Earth. Holly could not explain why and chose not to wonder right now. She had more pressing matters. "Honestly, you must believe me! I seek no quarrel with you or your droids! At least, not after they _were_ your droids," she added as an afterthought.

"No such place exists," Owen stated. "You're a filthy liar and I don't know what you want with these droids, but you're not bright enough to steal them from anybody, even Jawas!" Ouch. That stung.

"Uncle," the young man said, stepping up beside his uncle, a beeping R2 by his feet, "How do you know that she's lying? What she's wearing looks like a uniform," he observed, gesturing to her hoodie.

"Sir," Holly agreed, "this _is_ uniform. It's blue to show that I'm a science officer; I was never that skilled in tactical, which is why I'm no redshirt. I didn't want to die anyway," she added as an afterthought. "I only obtained captainship on a technicality, when the Klingons attacked and Captain Kirk was killed. That's why I got captured by the Jawas; I'm completely useless outside of my lab," she rambled. It was better than not having enough of a lie to explain. At least she chose to mimic a position from a show so vast in proportion, instead of a small franchise with basically nothing in it. She would have been at a complete loss, then.

Uncle Owen grumbled. "Even if that were true, which I know it isn't, I wouldn't trust you near my family. As much as I know, you're no more than a common thief, and a bad one at that. The closest city is Mos Eisley, quite a few miles east of here. If you make quick time, you can reach it by nightfall. Or go to Anchorhead. I don't care where you go, just don't stay here." She was thankful that, as he said that, Owen pointed in a direction, because she wasn't sure, on this planet, which direction 'east' was.

"But Uncle, the Jawas!" Luke protested. "They'll just recapture her!"

"What they did was illegal; they know it. You'll be perfectly safe, so long as you reach Mos Eisley by nightfall. I don't care if you do or do not, really, so long as you leave my family alone." He stepped closer, pointing a threatening finger at her. "I'll let you leave this time, but I swear, if you come here ever again trying to steal anything of mine, my wife's, or my nephew's, there _will_ be hell to pay," he said in a low tone.

He turned swiftly and beckoned for Luke to follow. The boy shot her a worried glance, which Holly could have sworn held a hint of sympathy, before he let his head hang low and followed his uncle. As they went, the two of them conversed in low voices that she could not discern.

3PO stayed behind with R2 for a moment. "I'm very sorry, ma'am," he said sincerely. "But these are our new masters now. I do wish we could accompany you, and perhaps we may reunite later," he said as R2 beeped his farewell. "I may be able to visit Mos Eisley and find you."

"Thank you, 3PO," she said. "But I'm sure that if he directed me there, it can't be that nice a place," she said. Holly was not eager to confront Uncle Owen any time soon, because she took his threat to heart, and wisely, too. "I'm going to Mos Eisley, apparently, only because there's just nowhere else to go that I know of; if I see you there, that would be great, but I personally wouldn't bet on it." She extended a hand and rested it on his warm metal shoulder. "3PO, if it weren't for you, I'd have gone mad by now. Granted, it was also because of you that I _did_ go mad, a little bit, but in a different way. Anyhow, you've both been good friends this past day."

"Farewell, Captain," 3PO said dismally, in a worried and sad tone. As they both turned to leave, R2 let out a solemn type of beep that sounded a bit like a whine, and Holly bid them both farewell as the groups went their separate ways.

In a way, this _is_ what she had wanted—she had wanted to be able to get to civilization and maybe find one, at least _one_ , sane person around who could direct her home. Holly just didn't want to leave without her newfound friends—she didn't know what she had been thinking, supposing that she could stick with him until the end—but it was sad all the same.

Holly stared after their retreating backs before heading the direction in which Luke's Uncle Owen had pointed, taking a moment to consider the four of them before embarking on her own journey.

She was really quite sorry to see the two droids go; she had learned to like them quite a lot. While R2 was unfamiliar and slightly unsettling for a time, 3PO had provided some sort of human grounding for her: he had been humanoid, after all, showing that, at least, not everything was _completely_ alien. He had a human form, and although the comfort brought by that aspect of him was minimal, it was a comfort all the same.

She had liked his personality, as well. Both of them were unique in their own way—it was amusing to see how the two interacted, and how she interacted with them. C-3PO had been worrisome and very rambling when first they met, but after a while, she had learned a great deal of things from him. She had forgotten to ask how they had gotten to this planet because of being so caught up in her lie, but now, Holly wished she had. It would be nice to know their story—she found herself missing them already, even as she still saw their forms against the sand.

One of those forms turned around; they were now about the size of a Jawa in the distance, but she could still identify the figure as young Luke. He had lagged behind his uncle slightly, and as he turned back to see her, Holly felt as good a time as any to turn around and begin walking her own way.

The walk begun rather slowly, as many long walks do, but before she had even gone fifty meters, she heard footsteps behind her. Turning abruptly, she saw Luke standing behind her, breathing slightly heavily. He must have been running.

"Hi, Captain," he began. "I'm really sorry about my uncle, but he just wants to protect our farm." Holly only nodded, confused as to why he had run back. "The most I can do is this: when you get to Mos Eisley, there's a ginormous building, nearly in the center of the city, and that's the main cantina. Avoid it at all costs; it's riddled with thieves and scum who won't hesitate to end your life. Your best bet is the smaller inn a few stores down, called 'the Dreary Dug.' It's probably the safest place there," he finished, glancing over his shoulder at the group, who had stopped to wait for him. His uncle beckoned impatiently for Luke to return.

"Thanks," Holly said. "I'll keep that in mind." As she said this, she felt something that was not entirely her own; it was akin to sympathy. She was not sympathetic towards herself; that would be downright foolish. Holly had no idea why exactly she was feeling this emotion—it nagged at the back of her mind even as she said, "You should probably go back. But…take care of 3PO and R2, please," she asked.

He nodded. "Of course." With one final, "Good luck," he turned back and ran to his uncle.

Holly turned back and walked away.

There is not much to say of the walk; at least, not of the action of walking. It still required two working limbs on the ground and a brain to control them, as per usual. This is why the walk itself is not to be discussed in much detail; it was Holly's thoughts that were of the most importance.

First, the thoughts preying on her mind all pertained to the odd feeling of sympathy she had felt. It was not as if she had thought it herself; it felt nearly tangible, as if it were a breeze coming towards her physically, rather than mentally. It was only technically that she applied the word 'sympathy' to the feeling; it was more like feeling sorry for someone, but also being rather wary. A cautious, unsure, but curious all the same type of sympathy, if that made any sense. Honestly, it didn't, especially not to Holly herself.

Was it something from her subconscious? If so, what could it have been? She had no reason to be sympathetic towards herself; what she really felt was confusion, about everything. Now, she was running on pure adrenaline alone, not having eaten or drank anything since she 'left' Earth, whatever that meant in the context.

Holly also had no idea why she just gave up and went with it, 'it' being the direction to Mos Eisley. She really had not wanted to leave her droid friends; they were the only things in this world that she could really link back to her own home, mainly because they reminded her so much of Clare. Of course, there wasn't much she would have been able to do; if she were a Starfleet officer, she would not certainly be a tactical redshirt, because she was physically weak and extremely unfit for anything that comprised of muscle work. That, paired with the fact that this was a _desert,_ for God's sake, was the real trouble with this journey.

Reminding herself of Clare was obviously not a good idea. Holly grew increasingly homesick as she recalled many of the moments they had shared as friends, even if Holly was not so dependent on their friendship. The memory of her, of her obsession with Star Wars, and the yearning that she had accepted her many offers to marathon the series preyed on her mind as she walked on, haunting her with regrets of things that really weren't her fault, crawling through her mind like ants in their nest.

Thinking of bugs….Holly was abruptly reminded of Xenon. She had placed him in the side pocket, which zipped up and ensured that he was still there. Hurriedly, she swung the bag from her shoulder and extracted her little bug, holding his present box-like form between to gentle fingers. She inspected him closely, hoping that nothing had done anything to harm him. She had been careless in just slipping him into her bag and now regretted it, with the possibility of damaging him permanently.

"Are you still there, little Xenon?" She asked him in a soft voice. There was nothing but a warm breeze to hinder her voice, so she knew she was perfectly audible; the only thing Holly doubted was whether or not she was heard.

As if on que, Holly felt the little bug buzz softly. She nearly dropped him in her shock, but caught it in her other palm before he fell to the sand. She continued to walk and she watched his legs unfold, straightening each one and bending it experimentally as if stretching before walking. His head protruded and his eyes scanned her face, recognizing her as something he had seen before. The corroded guy crawled from her palm to the back of her hand while Holly rotated her hand to keep it underneath him. This seemed to bother him not, however, because he then scurried up her arm in much the same way he had done before.

Halting on her shoulder and humming in her hear, the little but circled a small area of her hoodie like a dog would, looking for a comfortable position. Holly momentarily forgot to keep walking as he found a place to settle, adjusting to a stance that resembled sitting. Holly smiled as he perched on her shoulder and walked on.

She understood why she was being sent to this Mos Eisley very well. It was a perfectly rational decision on the part of Owen; he did not know Holly, and a thief would be more likely and much more believable than a Starship Captain. He just wanted his family to stay safely away from any dangers that being a semi-wealthy farmer proposed, and Holly figured that she would have done nothing more. It _would_ have been nice for him to be a bit kinder...but it was unrealistic, and she accepted that.

But what was realistic anyway?

That was the only remarkable aspect of her journey; it was understood that it would be hot and unpleasant, even after she pulled her hood over her head to stop the sun from constantly berating her eyes. After many, many hours of walking, she finally reached her destination.

The city was nearly the same color as the rest of the planet, reminding her of the ancient ruins archaeologists found of abandoned cities. The only difference was that this city was occupied, and when the ancient Earth cities had been occupied, she knew that the sandstone out of which they were built was probably covered in paint. At least, the wealthy ones were.

Some of the buildings resembled Luke's house, in a way; their main room, or central component, looked like a dome, and the doors were all curved, like tunnels. Others resembled pyramids—Mayan pyramids, at least, where there was a large low level, a smaller upper level, and an even smaller level above that, and so on, until they were finally capped off with a circular dome. There were others still that were just cubes with smaller domes atop their roofs—it was all a very interesting architecture, Holly thought, even if it was so simply…. _alien._

It was not long before Holly's attention was taken from the odd architecture and brought to things that were even more awe-inspiring. Awe-inspiring did not necessarily mean good, of course, because the obviously alien creatures before her now could have been malignant or benign and if they were the former, Holly would have been dead before she even had time to consider it.

The main thing she saw was in the distance—Holly could only identify it as a dinosaur. It was huge; taller than a person twice over, three times as long and twice as wide, there were actually things…. _things_...on top of it. He—or she—moved slowly, sluggishly over the sand, but faster still than anything else on foot due to the length of its massive legs.

There were other, more immediate eye-catchers as well, ones that were closer to her. Most of the humanoid figures wore robes not dissimilar to Luke and his uncle Owen's, but these all had drawn hoods. Some figures, however, were not human at all, or even alien—not even biological. There were many droids, some wandering with masters or at their own accord, going about their business as if this were a usual occurrence. Hell, so far as Holly knew, it very well could have been. It was just all so unusual to Holly that she was no longer walking—she just stopped and stared.

One type of droid turned out not to be any droid at all after closer inspection. They wore white armor over a black layer of clothing, and in their gloves hands they held large black guns. The helmet that they wore over their heads and faces and the armor took Holly a moment to place, but she soon identified the figures merely as 'those toys you always see in stores.' That was all she knew about them, aside from the fact that they were _not_ nice guys.

They stood in groups, and Holly was sure to avoid them.

It did not take her long to identify the cantina—it was the large round building around which the greatest crowd was gathered, many people flooding in at the same time as people flooded out.

So….what was it that Luke had said? Don't go into the cantina, she remembered that; it was so crowded that she wasn't planning to anyway. But…there was something about a weary Dug or tired Dug or something that was 'a few stores down.' That was where she was to stay.

Holly strode past the cantina, glancing down at the bug on her shoulder. "Xenon," she whispered to him. "Do you know where this 'Dreary Dug' or something inn is?" Holly did not expect him to answer, not for a second, though she was surprised when he raised one metal leg and pointed somewhere to her left—she peered in that direction before following the pointer. "Thanks," she said.

She nearly passed it—the building was small indeed, and Holly would not have thought that this was an inn at all. But an urgent, louder clicking on the part of Xenon signaled for her halting and made her observe the building closer.

It was larger than the visible portion of Luke's house, though not by much; she was not sure how far into the ground the establishment went, however, so exterior looks may be deceiving. Of course, every building could very well be a TARDIS, bigger on the inside, but for some reason, Holly doubted that.

There was a pale, sun-bleached banner hanging from the entrance, and she could barely make out the outline of some form, though what it depicted—or what it had once depicted—remained unknown, for even if she could make out the image, she couldn't identify what was on it.

Holly shrugged. Sending a slightly wary look to Xenon, she walked forward and into the 'inn.'

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. While she was not use to having to wait, it was not unexpected. However, as figures slowly began to take form and shapes and colors became brighter, she could make out that the interior was larger than the exterior.

Holly had to walk down a set of stairs in order to set foot on the main floor, but once she had done so, it came as no surprise to her that the expanse of the interior was greater than the outside would have her assume. Most of the city must have been underground, then...or was that just in the smaller buisnsses?

It was sparsely populated. There were a few round tables scattered here and there, with one large desk in one corner, behind which there was a stout figure bustling and whipping down the top. Only a few people—and Holly used that term loosely—were seated around the chairs, seldom with more than two people at one station. They all had some sort of grotesque face, some with a helmet covering the face, for which Holly was grateful—she was disturbed enough as it was.

The floor, which was a dark, murky brown and reminded Holly vaguely of a liquid, was dusty and grimy after many years of no cleaning; the walls were no better. Pale yellow lights hung from the ceiling, while smaller ones were fixed into the walls near each table. Nobody turned to look at Holly as she entered, possibly because they didn't hear; there was no door to swing open and her footsteps, which she had kept light, were buried beneath the soft music emanating from….somewhere.

It suddenly struck Holly that she did not have any money. She didn't have any American money on her, let alone….Mos Eisley-ian money. What did these people use for currency anyway? Bottle caps? Fingernails? They could use immortal souls for all Holly knew, though she did doubt that last one.

"Xenon," she bent her head so that he could hear her better. "Do you know what we're going to do? I've got no money to pay for a night, and I don't know how expensive it is anyway." She decided not to just stand in the doorway, though, because although nobody was looking now, the amount of uncertainty she was sure to emit would arouse suspicion even in the blind.

She slowly took a seat in one corner, far from any other occupant, setting her bag down on the table in front of her. Raising her hands to lower her hood, Holly tousled her dry hair. It had gotten riddled with sand, but other than that, nothing too atrocious had happened. She ran her fingers through the thick locks and tied it back in a sloppy bun at the back of her head; it had barely enough length to do this, but she made it happen anyway.

Holly let Xenon crawl down her arm to the table. He looked around from his new position and surveyed the area, his scanners falling on the bag. He motioned towards it with one leg, trying to indicate something of value within it.

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, Holly slid the bag closer to herself and rustled through its contents. All she had in here were books, really, with a bag. And all that was in the bag were pencils. She had nothing of use in her trusty bag. Steven had let her down, even though it was her fault.

Holly really found herself missing 3PO. She wondered if he and R2 missed her as well, but decided not to think too hard on it; she would only get worse and worse.

As she searched her bag, she came across her phone. She considered it closely, toying with the idea of offering to sell it in order to stay a night in this place, but she knew neither how much it was worth nor how useful it would actually be. She didn't know how long she had to stay her or where she would go if she couldn't pay, and she didn't want to rip off whoever she sold her phone to, because they would undoubtedly not be able to use it.

It was then that Holly heard the sound of quick and heavy footsteps. She glanced up from her bag, only mildly interested. From her seat in the corner, she could not see around to the entrance until whoever had just came in stepped a little farther into the cavern. She didn't know if it was that important who entered anyway.

Holly returned her gaze to her bag and extracted one of her books. This one had been 'Have Spacesuit, Will Travel' by Robert A. Heinlein, a book she had read many times but never got tired of. She held it in her hands, careful not to damage its already deteriorating spine. Flicking through the pages just have something for her fingers to do, Holly realized something: she had not seen a bathroom, much less used one, since her arrival here.

That thought brought the strong yearning to find one. This was an inn, and Holly was sure, even on other worlds, that living beings had an excretory system. She leaned over to Xenon, whispering, "Watch over my bag, will you?" before standing and looking around. Turning first away from the entrance, Holly found a smaller doorway that led to a short tunnel. There was the universal feminine figure painted above the doorway, which was, thankfully, not faded; it looked more like a painting or depiction on an ancient pyramid, but it got its point across.

The whole ordeal was unsanitary and rather disgusting; there was a horrid smell, and the room was made in the fashion of a Roman toilet, which basically consisted of a stone bench with holed in it, under which water flowed. The thought of it still made Holly cringe, but it must be done.

At least, it had something to clean one's hands. Of course, this was just a spraying-down with a bit of hot mist accompanied by something resembling pig lard, but it functioned as soap well enough. Holly was familiar with what was and what wasn't used for cleaning, after all; it was obvious when you knew what to look for.

She was just thankful that it had a neutral smell.

Holly wiped her hands on her jeans as she exited. Striding back to her table, she kept her eyes downcast, hoping that would encourage people to ignore her. If there was anything she wanted more than getting home, it was getting home unnoticed. If someone stopped her to ask questions she could not answer, like Owen had, her forward progress (if there was any to begin with) would be hindered so drastically that it may halt completely.

But before she even arrived at her table, Holly heard the sounds of high pitched screeching. It was not an organic sound; the only droid in the building seemed to be her own Xenon, and as her head shot up to investigate the noise, her suspicions were confirmed.

Xenon stood menacingly. At least, it was as menacing as a little electronic bug, hardly bigger than her hand, could be. In the seat that had been her own was a man.

He was facing the rest of the room, his back to her; he sat uncomfortably, only technically 'sitting.' He wore a dark vest over a white shirt, his arms flying as he fended off the attack offered by Xenon. What the little robot was shooting….was that electricity? He scurried around the table in front of the man, sniping at his hands every time he moved them. Holly understood the message that Xenon sent in his screeches and buzzes: _Get AWAY from this table!_

The man began to swipe at him with his hands, occasionally balling his fingers into fists and trying to smash Xenon. The little bug dodged every attempt as a blow, of course, but when he came dangerously close to being dead circuitry, Holly gathered her senses and rushed in to help her little friend.

When she was behind the brown-haired man, Holly shoved aside his hands, snatching Xenon into her palm. Seeing as he did not expect this, the feat was an easy one. " _WHO_ are you, to sit in my seat, and _WHAT_ are you doing to my droid?!" she exclaimed angrily, narrowing her eyes and glaring menacingly.

The man turned to face her and stood so quickly that Holly barely had time to back up. She now saw his face; it was eerily familiar; the first familiar _real_ face she had seen in a long time.

Holly did not recognize the person because she knew him personally, but because she had seen him in movies. Namely, as Indiana Jones. His familiar smirk was gone now, replaced by a look of irritation and outrage. His arrogant stance was only intensified by the pompous style of his brown hair; it took Holly by extreme surprise to see an actual _Harrison Ford_. It made no sense, however, how he was so young; wasn't he, what, sixty? Holly's mouth dropped open as she openly gaped.

Unless this _really, indisputably,_ and _impossibly_ was a Star Wars planet.

"The name's Han Solo," the man snapped in an enraged voice. He raised a hand and pointed at the little droid in Holly's hands, jabbing a finger at him. "And your droid tried to _shoot_ me!"

42.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I wish you to understand that what Owen Lars did was not part of the story because I dislike his character, but rather because it was only understandable that a man would seek to protect his family and work, and choose not to risk it all on a really bad lie told by a random and suspicious girl.

Anyway, leave a review if you wish, but otherwise, goodbye!


	5. Chapter 5

hi! This one took a bit longer, mainly because I wasn't happy with the way that it turned out, had to scrap it, and start over again. Anyhow, it's here now; special thanks to the two who reviewed for the last chapter, Time Lady Tinkerbell and Himeno Kazehito! I love hearing what you guys thought of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own the franchise, obviously, because I'd have a more reliable computer if I were that wealthy.

42.

Clare had described Han Solo as being good-looking. Holly was forced to sit through hours and hours of zoning while Clare rambled on, talking about Harrison Ford and his adventures with some bigfoot creature. Smuggling this, smuggling that, yelling something or other to who knows what in episode the-one-after-the-other-one where some dudes died.

To be honest, Holly hadn't cared for Han Solo then; seeing him now, her mind had not changed one bit.

Holly held her hand tight to her chest, cradling Xenon against her hoodie. She inspected him closely, trying to assess any possible damage—she saw none; his metal plating was just as old and decrepit as it had been when she found him. Holly honestly wasn't too surprised; it was not as though her bug was totally inept. He wasn't the sort to let just any Harrison Ford man hurt him, even if he was Han Solo.

"Oh, you're not going to let some doofus like _Han Solo_ hurt you, are you?" she cooed, as if he were a small dog. "He can't do _anything_ to you, little guy, can he?" She felt immensely proud of his performance standing up for her….or, at least, for her bag. She smiled down at her bug once before lifting her head, shifting her smile into a frown of rage as she glared at the man before her.

"What did you _think_ he was going to do, _Solo_?" she asked incredulously. "What did you expect him to do? Who are you to invade his privacy and expect him not to retaliate?"

This was not usually the way she did things. Holly usually just glowered and walked away, not really caring what the offender did once out of her sight. Usually, though, the offender in question hadn't directly done anything questionable to herself or those for whom she cared—now, however, the offender had. She would not just grab her bag and walk away.

Of course, that wasn't _just_ because he had nearly smashed Xenon. There was also the fact that she couldn't grab her bag, because it was directly behind this Han Solo.

But that didn't matter much. The end effect was still the same.

"Little Girl, d'you really think that _this_ stupid little droid has the power to stop anyone who wanted to steal your bag?" Solo questioned, looking at her as though she were an idiot. "If I really did want your bag, I could have very well gotten it, and there's nothin' that your bug could have done to stop me."

Nearly everything was wrong with that statement. "You have _absolutely no precedent_ to call Xenon stupid! I specifically stated that he was to guard my bag. If he's done anything harmful to you, it's because you invaded the privacy of either himself or the object that he was guarding! He was doing his job—he would _not_ have allowed you, or anyone better than you tenfold, to even _touch_ this bag! You're just arrogant to assume that you have any power at all over him," she scolded fervently, raising a hand to point a (hopefully) threatening finger at him. As Xenon crawled from her palm up to her shoulder, she placed her other hand on her hip.

Her voice had risen to a level quite above its normal volume; she was not used to shouting, especially not with a throat as dry as hers; unbeknownst to both of them, nearly every eye in the inn turned their way, the few occupants gazing warily.

"Oh, you're full of it," he replied quickly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Have you ever even left your house? Been to a city? That's not the way things work; you can't leave anything _anywhere_ and still expect to be able to return to it," his voice had lowered slightly, though it was still quite loud. "People here live in poverty, if they're not filthy rich through stolen goods, and neither are above stealing things from unwary travelers. Nothing, no little droid, no loud, pesky voice, is going to stop anyone from taking what they want. You may need to learn a lesson in common sense, Little Girl," he finished.

Holly was slightly taken aback. For one thing, she was sour with a blow to her pride that what Han Solo just said made perfect sense. Of course, she had no way to judge what was and what wasn't destitute in this place (not that she had looked anyway) and Holly had no other indications that there was anyone suspiciously untrustworthy in this particular inn, but what bothered Holly was that it was completely logical, though it was not _entirely_ her fault that she hadn't seen it—she didn't know what to look for, though it would be over her dead body that her own ghost would tell Han Solo exactly how lost she was.

Holly was lost for words and she did not like it. She hated being proven wrong—her pride was not often tested, but when it was, she did _not_ react well. It was one major character flaw that she would have gotten rid of if she were the author of her life, but all she could do now was stand and glower at the character before her.

Usually, she could hide a blow to her ego, but not now. Silence was the only answer that this man needed as his own ego visibly inflated, a mocking smirk finding its way onto his face.

Her first instinct had been to reply with, 'Well, how was I supposed to know?' but after a few moments of consideration, she thought better of it. Choosing to focus less on the wonder of actually thinking before she acted for once and to focus more on what she should actually say, Holly replied, "You don't look like you're starving on the streets; how about you try for some _morals_?"

Han Solo scoffed. "I have _morals_ , Little Girl. We may not share the same set of ethics, but don't assume for a second that I lack them," he stated.

"Yeah?" she questioned skeptically. "What types of morals include the condonation of unprecedented theft, even if not on the part of yourself, and the belief that you have the right to just _destroy_ any droid that stood in your foul way? Yeah, if he were trying to kill you, maybe it would be acceptable then, but can't you just suck up a few shocks and walk away?"

Solo scowled. "My types of morals depend on one thing," he said. "Myself. I'm sorry if that doesn't reflect your opinion of what everything is like in paradise, but in case you haven't looked around," he gestured to the inn around them with one arm, "this ain't paradise."

 _Just another day in paradise,_ she thought wryly. _I wonder, if I ask for help, would anybody help me?_ Probably not.

She didn't plan on asking for help anyway. Yes, her stomach grumbled, her throat burned, her head screamed for a rest, and she had no way to deal with more than one of those issues, if even that. The only way that Holly would be able to buy dinner or rent a room would be to have money, which she didn't.

She knew she was in trouble, but her unbacked pride did not let her do anything about it.

"Well," Holly replied, "even if your code of ethics depends solely upon yourself, Solo, would it be so against your twisted religion to get out of my way, at least?" If he wasn't going to apologize (which she wasn't expecting anyway), he could just leave, and she would forget about it. Not forgive, of course, but just forget.

She stood with arms crossed, waiting for his reply. When none came, she glanced at his face, to see that he wasn't looking at her anymore. Instead, his gaze was directed somewhere slightly to her right, slightly behind her.

Holly turned her head to see what exactly he had been looking at, rotating on her grounded feet as she did a double take. _What?_

Holly had thought that Han Solo, or Harrison Ford, or whoever this man was, had been tall. However, he was dwarfed by what stood behind her now. The thing, which was humanoid in basic structure, though it resembled a….bear-ape more than anything else, was nearly twice her own height, taller than any man she had seen. Covered in thick brown fur, the colors of which ranged from auburn to dark brown, Holly should have remembered one of the only things she knew about Star Wars: Bigfoot followed Harrison Ford around. This was the Bigfoot who had always been with them during their….adventuring. She recognized him now, from the few pictures she had seen, with his slightly bear-like muzzle and the pouch that was slung over his shoulder. It carried ammunition, if the cartridges on the strap were anything to go by.

It was one thing to see little boys dress up as him for Halloween in her neighborhood, and quite another thing to see it in real life, this time twice her height, instead of half her height. As she craned her neck to see his head, her mouth fell in an open gape.

"Wha—"

"Hush," Han Solo snapped. "Think about what you're gonna say to him before you say it, Little Girl," he said in a hurried voice, "because I doubt you've ever angered a Wookiee before. You don't know what they're capable of."

Wookiee? What the hell was a Wookiee? Well, obviously, it was the thing standing before her, but just….what? Holly couldn't think of anything to say, offensive or not. What could he do even if she was offensive? Holly thought that it was something along the lines of "I'll rip your head off of your neck" kind of dangerous. She wasn't too eager for that. Holly forced her mouth closed, eyes wide with fear.

The Wookiee opened his mouth and let out a nearly deafening roar. It may not have been so loud if she hadn't been so close to it and if the inn hadn't been quiet in general, but nonetheless, it caused her to flinch.

"Yeah, Chewie, it does," Han Solo agreed. He could understand that thing? How many years of studying did it take to learn that language? If he wasn't just guessing, that is; Holly bet he couldn't speak it either way. "Did you see where they were going? Are they coming here?"

The tall 'Wookiee' roared again in response. "Oh, no," Solo said. "Chewie, you best make yourself scarce," he directed towards Chewie. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just go out the back, make sure nobody sees you, quickly," the Wookiee let out a noise that sounded most similar to a whine, shaking his head. "Come on, you're too obvious," Solo argued. Chewie seemed to understand where he was coming from, for although he did so grudgingly, the Wookiee bowed his head and ducked behind a doorway, leading somewhere that Holly didn't know.

Solo turned to her. "Okay, please, I'm sorry about your droid, but I _need_ to stay at this table," he said.

"Why?"

"Because its location provides a blind spot to anyone looking in from the doorway," he said hurriedly. "Now, quickly, I really need to hide." Before she could answer, he took the seat that was closest to the wall, shooting furtive looks around the inn. All of the other people had gone back to their drinks, not paying them any more mind.

Xenon clicked near her ear. She turned to him, sighing in exasperation. Holly sat down at her old seat, across from Han Solo. Apparently, this wasn't an argument she was going to win.

"So, who are you hiding from, and why?" Holly extended her arm, motioning for Xenon to crawl of if he so wished. He didn't, so she propped her elbows up on the table top and rested her jaw on one chin.

"Someone and because I want to," he said dismissively. It looked as though he was trying to maintain his calm, but Holly could see his eyes shooting from one corner of the room to another.

"Obviously it is a bigger reason than that," she said. "You're hiding at _my_ table, and they're obviously dangerous. That puts me in danger, so I deserve to know," she reasoned.

"Nothin's making you stay here, Little Girl," he snapped. "You can leave any time you want to." His attitude was so….cocky, so sure of himself, as he gestured with a snarky smile on his face.

"I do have to. Xenon's waiting for an opportunity to strike, and I won't deprive him of the pleasure," Holly countered. She wasn't sure if Xenon did want revenge or not, but it was a good lie anyway. Better than her stupid 'I'm a Starship Captain' fantasy, at least.

"Yeah, how did you come by that bug?" he questioned, gesturing with his hand to her shoulder. Like Holly would actually tell him. "I've never seen a droid quite like him."

"And you never will," she said.

"Well, what does that mean? Where'd you find him?"

"If you expect me to tell you," she said, "then you're delusional."

He grumbled, "Just tryin' to make conversation."

"If you're so adamant that you need to hide, why do you need to talk? Shouldn't you just keep quiet?"

"And what, look so unnatural? Two people sitting in complete silence will arouse a bit of suspicion, if you didn't realize. Just act naturally. Talking is a way to do that," he said. "Oh, come on, you look so tense. You'll attract attention."

Holly realized that she had been holding her shoulders stiffly, formally. She relaxed her muscles….slightly. "Sorry, force of habit," she said.

"Huh. So, where _did_ you come from? Obviously, you don't know anything about how things work around here, so you must be an outlander," he concluded.

Oh, how right he was. "Yeah, that's an understatement," she chuckled lightly. "I'm honestly so lost that I don't even know what this dump is _called_."

Whatever happened to 'it would be over her dead body that her own ghost would tell Han Solo exactly how lost she was?' Holly didn't know what she was saying anymore. But, it must have been better than lying, because it's a bit more convincing to talk and have no idea what to say than to lie and have no idea how to do so. At least, she hoped it was.

"How'd you get here then? You're in Mos Eisley, the largest city here, where most ships come and go. Like a port, if there were any seas on this world, other than seas of sand," he said.

That wasn't much that Holly didn't know. "Yeah, I know this is Mos Eisley, but where exactly is this? What's this whole desert place called?" she elaborated, hoping he would give her the answers she was looking for.

"What, are you trying to tell me that you don't even know Tatooine's name?" he asked incredulously. "How can you not know the name of the planet that you're on?"

Holly paused for a moment. How should she answer? She had already tested her 'Captain' lie on Uncle Owen, but that didn't seem to work _at all._ She would have told him how she actually got here, but the problem with that was she didn't know how she got here. Conflicted, she responded with, "Well, I sort of….crashed. The plasma converters had been severely damaged….we were just walking around, sort of aimlessly, looking for a settlement…."

"'We?'" Solo raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean your bug, or somebody else?"

"I had been walking with another droid, a protocol droid, one that I met shortly after I crashed," Holly supplied. It seemed that she was going to go with the "Captain" lie after all, at least partically, even though she was sure that she would regret it later. Holly just had nothing better to fall back on but the lie, it seemed, and all she could do was hope that he'd believe it.

She began to miss 3PO again. It was getting annoying, constantly going back to the thought of the golden man; he was the only friend she had made here, besides Xenon, and he was the only one she could actually talk with. He had believed her lie, for one—for that she had been thankful, though it had filled her with false confidence, confidence that she was relying on now.

"What happened to him? Did you guys just separate?"

"No," she said. "A….sandcrawler, I think they called them, came, and we both got shot. That's where I found this guy," she looked to Xenon quickly, smiling slightly. "3PO was sold to some guy and his nephew, and I had to make a run for it."

"Why didn't you just stay with those two guys who bought your friend? Why come here?"

"Because they thought I was there to steal droids," she said, looking down. "So they directed me to Mos Eisley. Now I'm here."

He chuckled. "Funny story," he said. Did he not believe her? "What's your name, girl?"

Holly decided not to lie on that point. At least her name was something that she knew. "I'm called Holly," she said. "Holly O'Reilly. And this, as you know, is Xenon, short for XE-742."

"Nice to meet you," he said, if only out of habit. He then paused, a confused look on his face. "Well, no, not particularly nice, considering your droid tried to kill me."

"Oh, don't be a baby," she said exasperatedly. "He didn't try to _kill_ you. And even if he had, it would be your fault."

"Only because he couldn't," Solo pouted. "If he was capable of it, he wouldn't have hesitated."

"No, he wouldn't. At least nobody would be there to cry for you, except that bigfoot thing you call Chewie."

"Bigfoot? What kind of nonsense is that?"

"Your thick skull wouldn't understand."

They bantered back and forth in that manner for some time; they spoke as though they were comfortable to be around each other, though only out of necessity. Holly knew that they were both in potential danger, and although it may have only been a lie to get to her to stop shouting at him, she did not want to take any risk. If they talked regularly, they didn't arouse suspicion.

The truth was, neither could stand the other. Holly sat tense still, even though Solo had said that it would be suspicious, because she couldn't sit casually in the company of such a grating man. Everything he said drove her closer and closer to absolutely loathing him; he was self-obsessed, arrogant, and so….irritable. Or irritating. Holly couldn't decide which one.

They spoke of trivial things; it was obvious that neither Holly nor Han Solo were comfortable revealing too much about their own personal business. Holly basically didn't have any, and any prying questions he asked would only wind up in more lies, of that she was sure. She was thankful that he didn't bother. She didn't ask anything both because she doubted he would answer and also because she didn't care—his response would undoubtedly be cocky and self-satisfying, if he responded at all. There were many things that she wanted to know and he seemed to know the answers, yet any question she would ask could make him much more suspicious than he undoubtedly already was.

What he said didn't necessarily make her clench her jaw every time he spoke, but rather the way he said it. His condescending tone, as if he expected them to know it already, as he spoke to her bothered her to no end. Was it just to her, or did he speak to everyone as if they were half his age and one third as competent?

He probably thought that she was mentally retarded, or possibly suffering from heat stroke. Of course, the second was a completely plausible idea, considering that she had spent most of her time outside and none of her time with water.

When the fact that she had no money was mentioned, he stared at her in disbelief. "What?" he demanded in a raised voice. "You're telling me that you walked into an inn without a credit to your name?"

"I had no choice, did I?" she defended. "I've been hungry, and tired, and thirsty—I've been dying out in the sun for who knows how long. Any shade was welcome. I wasn't exactly thinking of whether or not I could pay for it. Money isn't the only thing that matters to me, you know."

"It's the only thing that matters to most other people, though," Solo said. "I've seen the innkeeper. She—I think it's a she—keeps looking over at you. Probably gonna kick you out unless you buy something."

Holly leaned back in her seat, grumbling and lowing her head. What was she going to do? She had not looked back, but what Solo said was completely understandable and probably completely true. She was not entirely ignorant of the ways of the world, and she knew that if this was such a money-driven place, she would be sooner tossed out of the window than given a lump of stale bread. "Oh, I don't know," she complained quietly. Holly screwed her eyes shut and rubbed the lids. "I have absolutely no idea what to do!"

Hopefully, she had said all of this quiet enough for Solo not to hear her. This would be the perfect time for 3PO to pop out of nowhere with the solution to her problem, for R2 to come and beep incoherently, but bring consolation anyway. Her eyes were throbbing, along with the rest of her head in general, pleading desperately for sleep. She hoped that she could have been able to silence those cries, but her hopes were in vain. All of them, even the wish that she had remained unheard.

"Alright—" she heard Solo say. Holly raised her head. "Tell you what. In the morning, which'll come in about…." He paused, looking around to try to remember something, "five hours, we'll go to the cantina—I have business there anyway—and I set you up with the bartender. Hopefully, he'll hire you to scrub tables or something. He can always use more hands, and you don't need to know much, other than how to keep your mouth shut."

Holly's mind went blank. She didn't know what to think, her brain still racing to process the words. She'll get work? An actual job, where she does things and gets paid? Really? "You'd do that?" Was she hearing correctly?

Solo shrugged. "The sooner you get out of my hair, the better."

"Excuse me, I'd have absolutely nothing to do with you if you hadn't stolen my table!" she snapped harshly. "You don't even still have to be here!" The only reason she'd remained was to prove a point, anyway.

Holly was immensely grateful that she would have somewhere to go and something to do until she found her way home, if she could ever find her way home. She couldn't stand not knowing what her goal in life was—she could never just 'go with it,' she had to know what it was that she was going with. Maybe if she worked in this 'cantina,' she would learn something about this world; more specifically, how to leave it.

"I do have to stay here, until Chewbacca gets back," Han Solo said. "Hey, speaking of, well, living, when was the last time you had something to eat?"

Holly actually had to think on this. Her mind wasn't the sharpest at the moment, she knew, but there was also the not-so-small matter of sever jet lag messing up her internal clock. Jet lag wasn't really the proper term for it, but that was the closest thing. "Uh…I dunno. Yesterday morning, maybe? A bit earlier? I've no idea what type of time you guys keep, and I wouldn't be able to keep track if I did."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said in an astonished tone. "If nothing else gives us away, your growling stomach will."

Holly had sort of become accustomed to it—the rumbling of her stomach. There hadn't been anything she could have done about it earlier, so why bother worrying then? If she had walked into an inn full of piping hot, pungent meals that were aromatically appealing, maybe she would have been bothered more by her hunger. But nothing in this inn made her think 'food', let alone something that would strike up her appetite.

"I suppose," she answered. "You could find some other table to hide at, some other alien to be your cover."

He seemed to consider it for a moment. "Nah," he declined. "That innkeeper's giving us _both_ glares that would freeze a wampa now."

"So you're just—" he didn't stick around long enough for her to finish her question. Quickly, he stood and retreated to the counter, where Holly watched him intently. The already beady eyes of the alien on the other side of the table narrowed for a moment, analyzing Solo closely.

Solo kept talking—she saw his hand slip into his pocket, and when he extracted it, there were several glittering 'coins' in his palm. (Really, they looked more like gemstones flattened, but they were currency nonetheless.) It seemed to serve as enough of an incentive for the innkeeper, however, who proffered a monstrous palm for them.

Shaking his head, Solo pointed to something behind the bar that was too dark for Holly to see from her angle. She could hear the alien's huff from where she was as it (she still couldn't discern a gender) turned to retrieve that item. The objects exchanged hands, and Solo made his way quickly back to their table.

"Here," he slung the item across the tabletop as he sat down. Holly eyed it warily; it was in a wrapper similar to that of a granola bar, but she couldn't understand the inscription. She didn't often trust any food the description of which she could not read or understand, and Holly didn't know if she should trust _anything_ from Han Solo. "Go on, take it; I don't have all night."

She would have liked to take it out that he did, in fact, have much more time than he seemed to think he did, but with reluctance she extended her palm and watched as he slung the _thing_ into her hand.

"What even _is_ this?" she questioned with a crinkled nose. It felt squishy, like gelatin. Holly didn't like gelatin.

"It's food," Solo said, as if it were obvious. "This substance—you eat it, you know, and it gives you energy. You might've heard of it before."

"Oh, I've never heard of food before," she replied, sarcastic and nonchalant, idly poking at the wrapper, which now seemed to be the most usual part of it. Then, tentatively, she peeled back the wrapping.

It was green.

Not the vibrant green that you'd see in fruits or candies, nor the deep green of vegetables. Rather, it was a murky, dull green that reminded her of feces. Her stomach, despite being desperate for food, churned with repulsion. "I'm supposed to eat this rubbish?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "I paid for it; don't waste."

He eyed her until she took a bite. Every second it drew closer to her mouth was another sixteen tons added to the weight holding her arm back, but eventually, it was close enough to take a bite. It was squishy and hideous, but at least it didn't have an odor.

Or a taste, really. Though that may have been because she pinched her nose.

"The texture is _atrocious_ ," she remarked with distaste.

"You'll just have to deal with it if you don't want to die of starvation."

Slowly, she took another bite, trying not to chew much before swallowing. "I'd almost prefer desiccation to this." Luckily, it wasn't too much she had to eat, so she was finished soon enough—Holly was loath to admit it, but she found that her stomach wasn't so distracting anymore. "What was that stuff, anyway?"

"I dunno," he answered honestly. "I can't quite pronounce the name."

"What?!" Holly demanded. "You made me eat something that you can't even pronounce?" She noticed that he only waited until after she had consumed it to mention that fact.

He just shrugged. Not really wanting to draw the conversation out longer than it had to be, Holly let the subject drop.

They lapsed into silence, whereupon Xenon crawled down from Holly's arm and onto the table. He stood in front of her, all grimy and oxidized, and poked at her finger with one of his legs.

She tapped him back, and then commenced an odd game of trying to one-up each other. She was only half paying attention, however; one half of her mind was brought to trying not to squash Xenon when she tapped him, the other half spent on imagining what it would be like working in a cantina. A cantina was like a bar, right? So, would she just deliver drinks and wipe tables?

Holly would have never stood for so menial a job back home. She had great aspirations to be both an astronaut and a theoretical physicist—it seemed, however, that she left Earth's orbit a bit too soon. She would have never settled for being a waitress or janitor or any other tedious job that someone without half a brain could do, preferring to imagine herself in a laboratory or a rocket, running tests or piloting a shuttle that was heading for the moon.

But now, her priorities had changed. Before she could do either of her life's goals, she had to get to a place where her life was actually supposed to take place—she had to get home. She needed to find a way back to Earth, get back into her regular life, and finish school. Then, she would be free to follow her dreams and live happily ever after.

First, though, she would have to get there.

Xenon had gotten bored with their little game after Holly's movements became rather slow and sluggish. All of this not-doing-anything had put Holly in a sleepy mood, and she hadn't even noticed that Xenon had crawled back on her shoulder.

She did notice, though, the heavy footsteps coming from behind her, coupled with an odd whining growl.

Han Solo's head shot up just as hers whirled around to stare at bigfoot, or 'Chewbacca.' He was approaching the two of them quickly, growling as he did so. He did not seem angry; Holly noticed that he always 'spoke' this way, in this growling manner.

 _They must be this galaxy's Germans,_ she thought: _everything they say sounds like they're yelling in anger._

"Oh, thank you, Chewie," Han Solo said sarcastically. Holly found herself wishing that she could understand Chewbacca's speech as he roared again. "Yeah, of course; you did a good job," Solo stood and placed a hand on Chewbacca's shoulder, reaching quite high to do so.

Chewie roared his thanks and turned to look at Holly. "So, are you guys going to leave now?" she questioned.

"No," Solo said, "we can't. We're gonna spend the night in one of these rooms until the morning, because there's people patrolling now."

As there were no windows, Holly could not see the suns beyond the walls. They must have set, however, because Solo had said that there were five hours until the morning, which she assumed to still be sunrise. Or was it sunsrise? Oh, it was very nearly a physical impossibility for a planet to be orbiting two suns and still sustain life; she decided not to concentrate on the insubstantial terminology.

"Cool," she said. "Well, now that he's back, and you don't need to hide anymore, I'll leave now. Seeing as I don't have any bounty on my head or anything like you do…"

"And where exactly do you expect to stay?"

"I'll find a….rock or something," she said slowly. Holly hadn't considered the place where she would stay the night yet; not seriously, anyway. Most of her thoughts were sluggish at best, and she didn't have the energy for serious contemplation.

Chewbacca suddenly extended a hand towards her. Namely, her shoulder. She tried to back up, but found that, as her seat had been against a wall, she didn't have anywhere to go. She screwed her eyes shut with fear of being struck by the humungous hand, but after a moment in which absolutely nothing happened, she opened her eyes and considered the beast.

She had expected him to strike her, possibly because of some grudge he held against people who lived underneath rocks or something, but he did not. Instead, he reached for Xenon, as if offering hid arm as a bridge.

The bug in question approached the large hand, his head lowered as if he were a dog sniffing unfamiliar but not unwelcome territory. He turned his head up to look at Holly, humming for a short moment before walking bravely onto the Wookiee's arm.

"Hey—Xenon! What are you doing?!" she questioned in a rushed voice. "He may hurt you!"

Chewbacca roared as if in indignation. He brought the hand upon which Xenon stood closer to his face, examining him closely. The bug did not seem afraid, just walking in circles and observing the brown fur with his scanners.

"He won't do anything to him," Solo said, speaking as if it were understood that the Wookiee presented absolutely no danger to her droid. "Unless, of course, your droid decides to shock him!"

"Your Wookiee's too smart for that, I'd say," Holly mused. "Only a complete idiot would let himself get shocked by _Xenon_ , of all droids."

Solo glared at her darkly. "Don't think I'm above dropping our deal," he snapped.

"Don't think I'm above running outside and yelling, 'Han Solo is here!'" she countered with a murderous look of her own. "Besides, your friend has my bug. He's not going anywhere with my bug."

"All right, Chewie, put the bug down," Han Solo ordered, to which Chewie grumbled a roaring argument. He let Xenon crawl from the top of his hand to his palm, somehow clinging to the fur despite not having any means by which to do so. Chewie flipped his hand over and righted the droid.

"Come on, Xenon," Holly urged. "Just get down and we'll leave." The droid did not budge.

"I reckon he likes him," Solo said begrudgingly. "Can't see why…." He trailed off. Holly, once again, glared.

"Okay this has gone far enough," Holly stated. "You need to put him down, please, because I need to go, and I won't leave without him."

Chewie roared.

"What now?" Han Solo grumbled. "Well, I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't care. They can just—" he was interrupted by another cry from Chewbacca, who pointed with his free hand to Holly. She looked from one to the other in confusion. "Oh, fine. But this better be worth it!"

Before Holly could question what exactly had happened, Solo had turned around and rushed off to the innkeeper standing behind the counter. He placed his palms on the edge and leaned against the counter casually, words flying between them that Holly could neither discern nor understand. The man pointed back to the two of them still by the table, and the innkeeper—Holly now understood what Solo meant by not being able to determine the gender—nodded. Solo dug into his pockets and extracted several gleaming silver bars, which he slid across the counter to the thing behind it, receiving in exchange three cards.

Once he returned, he gave one of the cards to Holly. "You don't have to leave. Well, you don't have to leave the inn, that is. Here's a key to a room for the night. Chewie, give her back her insect. You can play with him in the morning."

"And who are you to decide that?" Holly questioned as she accepted the card that he proffered. "And I'm sorry, but as you probably figured by now, I can't pay you back for this," she said lamely, looking at the card with narrowed eyes.

"This was basically nothing. I wouldn't have spent money on anything expensive; don't expect much in the way of luxuries," he responded. "Besides, being rid of you will be payment enough."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. As she reached for Xenon from Chewbacca, she heard the annoying wannabe Indiana Jones say,

"The rooms are just down the hallway. Look for the one that matches the symbol on the key and you'll be done."

"All right," she said in farewell as she departed, droid in hand.

The hallway was even more dimly lit than the main dining area, or lobby, or whatever it was. Things that barely passed for rooms were only concealed by a piece of hanging red cloth over the arched doorways. Above each arch was engraved a symbol, which must have been what Solo spoke of.

Matching the symbols was a task more difficult than Holly could have imagined. For one thing, this alphabet was entirely unfamiliar to her; she recognized no letters or numbers, so she couldn't just remember one of them and look for its counterpart: she had to consciously observe every detail multiple times trying to find its match. At least her search was rewarded with her arrival at the end of the hall, whereupon she noticed the odd circle with three lines branching off from it above the door being identical with that on her key.

It took her a moment to figure out why she needed a key in the first place if every door was just a cloth; however, she soon realized that it was not just a cloth in between the outside and the inside of the room; her hand could not push the cloth aside. There must have been some sort of….science fiction force field, the types seen in bridges on starships. Looking at the sides and trying to find a place to enter in her key, she heard footsteps behind her.

Han Solo approached and snatched the key from her hand. He stood by her side as he presented it to the door, merely holding it out in front of him as a red laser descended to scan an area on the other side of the card. The entire doorway sparked for a moment and the force field went out with a click.

Solo raised his eyebrows at her incredulously when she gasped in realization. "Oh."

"Um, thanks," she said. He pressed the card into her hand and turned to leave.

Before he was out of earshot, she heard him mumble, "How can somebody be so incompetent?"

She rolled her eyes and walked forward, brushing aside the curtain-like cloth as she entered.

Solo was not exaggerating when he said that the rooms would not be luxurious; they were hardly satisfactory. All they had was a table, which was large enough for one person only to be seated at, and a low-lying, thin bed; the room itself was large enough to accommodate just those two pieces of furniture. The bed looked to be made of stone, with a few sheets laid across it to resemble a blanket.

The walls were rough, being no different than the rest of the inn, and the only light in the room came from a small, dim lamp near the door that flooded the room in an orange glow. Holly approached the bed, placing a hand on its rough sheets. Holly was, quite honestly, much too tired to be thoroughly dissatisfied with any aspect of this room, though.

Even if it was uninviting to the last detail, it was still a bed. Setting both Xenon and her bag on the table, she crossed to the bed and grabbed the sheets. Holly balled them up, adjusting the shape and size to act as a pillow. It was warm enough in the room for her to sleep without a blanket, even before considering her hoodie, so no sacrifice was made. Settling herself down onto the bed, Holly whispered "Goodnight" to Xenon before closing her eyes and welcoming the sleep that followed, not even bothered by the light.

42.

Well, I hope you liked the way Holly and Han get along! Or the way that they don't, whichever. I'm not too sure about it myself, but I tried to get them as in-character as I could. Review if you have anything to say about it, and thanks for those who followed and favorited!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello; I apologize sincerely for the thoroughly dissatisfying length of time that this chapter took to write. I have been bogged down by studying, homework, and completely stressing over tests, so I've been writing when I have the chance, but it wasn't that often.

However, I do believe that this is the longest chapter yet, so it _may_ keep you satisfied.

Himeno Kazehito: I'm glad I keep at least a few readers in (slight) anticipation. I hope this chapter is pleasing enough!

CrazyAwesomeZebra: I'm very flattered. I'm glad you like it.:)

Time Lady Tinkerbell: Being sick is a perfectly reasonable excuse; I was hindered by life too. Holly and Han's meeting did bother me and I'm still a bit unsure about the dynamic between them, and although I knew they wouldn't get along in the beginning, I never wanted her to play the "Leia" role. Anyway, I'm really glad you reviewed; I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

A Person: (even though this is for chapter two) I'm glad someone enjoys the references to the Guide. There will certainly be more to come!

Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars or anything pertaining to it, I wouldn't be struggling over a physics test; I'd be rich with a grey beard.

42.

Chapter Six:

Holly strode purposefully down the grey corridor, her black boots thudding against the dark carpeted floors. The light emanated from little bulbs in the lower corners of the hallway, where the floor met the wall, small but bright; the sliding doors remained closed as Holly passed them.

She was seeing her actions as though she were the third person narrator of some bizarre story; she observed her own footsteps and movements as Holly walked down the curving hallway. She, or at least, the version of herself that she was currently observing, wore a long-sleeved, light blue shirt and black slacks, the standard uniform for science officers. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and her face, which held a stern expression, looked much prettier than it was in real life.

In her hands she held a data pad, the words of which she had already read. The observer Holly did not know what they were, but she knew the message they conveyed: there was a breach in the warp core due to many malfunctioning plasma converters, unrepaired because all of the personnel were preoccupied with the ruptured life support systems, liberty of the Klingon attack.

Like all dreams, Holly tended to know things that weren't clearly expressed, such as background information. She also knew that the version of herself that she was observing was heading towards a turbo booth, the starship's version of an elevator.

The com badge attached to her uniform beeped, relaying a message: "Commander O'Reilly?" The science officer version of Holly raised a hand to tap on it, answering the addressment.

"Yes, Captain?"

"You are needed on the bridge, Commander," the male voice said.

"Yes, Captain. On my way."

She rounded a corner and punched in a code on one of the wall panels, stepping into the turbo booth that immediately opened. "Bridge," she commanded, signaling her destination to the ship-wide computer, which beeped in response.

Before the lift had stopped at the bridge, there was a loud knocking on the walls. _Odd,_ thought Holly; _How can someone be outside the turbo lift mid-floor?_

The knocking began to move from one area of the lift to another, seeming to move across the wall. As Holly turned to trace the sound, her vision went black and she received a sharp blow to the head.

Her eyes opened. She lay on the floor of her room at the inn, ungracefully splayed across the dirt. She had smashed her head against the side of the table, apparently, as she fell off the bed. The knocking persisted as her temples throbbed.

Holly propped herself up on her elbows, turning to look across the room at whoever was knocking. Below the curtain she could see a pair of large hairy feet, undoubtedly belonging to Chewbacca.

It must have been morning. The dawn had come much too early, for Holly's eyes were still droopy and she wanted only to return to the bet, despite how uncomfortable it had been. ""I'm coming," she called as she got to her feet, stumbling.

Everything was blurry. She realized that she did not have her glasses on; she had not taken them off before she slept, apparently. Looking around, she found them on the floor beside her bed….

Snapped clean in half.

"Oh, damn!" she cursed. Holly scrambled to collect the two separated pieces, broken at the bridge. She didn't even have any tape to put them back together; her glasses were broken, and she was stuck in place where she was most unlikely to find a replacement.

Things really chose the most inopportune moment to happen to her, didn't they?

She stood for a moment, mourning her ruined ocular aids. She really needed those glasses; being terribly near sighted, Holly had not gone a day without her pair of spectacles. "Oh, no…."

There was a roar from the other side of the curtain, Chewie urging her to hasten her movements. "All right, just a moment; just a moment," she answered, gathering her bag from the table beside the bed. Xenon had reverted back into his rectangle form, legs and head retracted into his shell like a turtle. As she placed him in her palm, he reactivated, lights powering on and legs touching her palm as he stood.

She swept aside the curtain, being greeted by Chewie, who instantly looked to Xenon. He offered a hand, which her bug climbed on in an instant. "Oh, I get it," she grumbled, "I'm only good enough when there isn't a Wookiee around."

Chewie roared in response, though Holly had no idea what he just said. The tall creature turned, beckoning for Holly to follow as he began to stride down the corridor.

The two of them met Solo when they entered the main dining room. He stood leaning against the wall, oozing pure arrogance as he slouched. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and in noticing that, Holly also noticed something that she had not seen the previous night: his belt, which was hung lower on his hips than the waistband of his pants did, sported a holster, in which a black gun sat. Holly immediately hesitated, her face paling. She suddenly saw him as an even greater threat than before. Before she had just seen him as an annoying man who was too full of himself. Now she was him as an annoying man who was too full of himself with a weapon that she could be harmed by.

What was she expecting? Considering what he had said the previous night about how destitute the people around here were and how desperately they clung to life, she should have expected anyone around here to carry a gun or phaser or whatever it was. However, she had stupidly chosen to leave common sense behind when she just blindly trusted him.

Why was she doing this, again? Yeah, he could get her work as a barista or whatever it was, but he had shown no reason to really be trustworthy. Chewie must have seen her hesitation, for as the two of them neared Han Solo and Holly halted in the doorway, he turned back and roared.

Solo looked towards them. "Finally," he said, as if he had been waiting a while. Had he? What time even was it? "Took you long enough," he grumbled.

Holly did not come any closer, but as she rubbed her eyes, she asked, "What time is it?" She was still incredibly groggy, and the lack of clarity in her vision was not helping in any way.

"It's nearly midday," he replied. "Honestly, how can somebody sleep that much? You've wasted half the day," Solo added, his tone suggesting a bad temper. Holy did not have to wonder long to conclude that she, and her late sleeping habits, were the source of this foul mood.

Normally, she wouldn't mind. However, now that she saw that Han Solo had a gun, she might be a bit warier.

"Well, I'm sorry," she said sarcastically, "but it's not as if I'd had any sleep for the past—what, two days? I think it's safe to say that I'm a bit deprived and, nowhere in our agreement was it stated that I had to wake up early." So much for being wary.

Han Solo scowled deeply and turned to Chewie, watching him closely, along with the mechanical bug on his shoulder, which the Wookiee was now observing with interest. Holly felt slightly protective of her little friend, but it did not seem that Chewbacca presented it any harm. "Oh, come on, Chewie. Leave the bug alone," Solo requested. Chewie complained and refused.

"It's fine," Holly said airily. "He's obviously more competent than you."

"What'd you mean by that?" Solo demanded.

"If anything could get through your thick skull to your underdeveloped brain, you'd know," Holly replied haughtily, her attitude reflecting her opinion of him. She really just wanted to see if he would be bothered by it. "I mean that I would trust somebody that doesn't even speak my own language before I would trust you."

"You don't need to trust me, girl," he said as he turned to face the door. "In a few hours, I'll be rid of you, and trusting don't matter when you're three parsecs away," he said, glancing back at her with a stupid, mocking smirk on his face.

Holly knew what a parsec was and was not surprised. They were apparently in an intergalactic nation of sorts, so they couldn't just measure things with miles; they'd get much too tired of writing all of the zeros. However, that comment did drive into her brain just how unfamiliar she was with this place.

However, something else he said had irked her. "Few hours?" she asked. "Can't we go right away?"

"Yeah, we can leave now," he said, beginning to walk towards the door. "But to get you a job at the cantina, there's probably gonna be quite a wait. The bartender is a busy man."

"Great," Holly muttered. She was not looking forward to spending another moment with this vile man, even if his tagalong did have her bug. Though, to be honest, his tagalong wasn't nearly as annoying as Han Solo himself.

42.

The sun was bright in the sky when they climbed through the port-hole-like entrance, and Holly narrowed her eyes against the harsh sunlight. It reflected off of the sand, which made it infinitely worse; even looking down brought her no relief from the perpetually berating UV rays.

Holly had pulled her hood over her eyes, the shadow it cast serving as some protection from the sky above. Over her shoulders hung Steven, the fact that she had even consciously thought of him as Steven praying on her mind. The mere thought of actually naming a bag made her cringe, for she was not a young child who named petty possessions that she was afraid to lose. She kept a watchful eye on the shoulder of the Wookiee in front of her, upon which sat Xenon; although she trusted Chewbacca to a greater extent than she trusted Han, her trust in him was not complete.

If he harmed her bug, she would….well, she wasn't quite sure if there was really anything severe that she could do to a man and bigfoot in anger, but she certainly could hurt their ears by shouting a lot.

The walk to the cantina was not long; the three of them remained silent as they strode across the dusty streets, nearing the cantina quickly. Holly lagged slightly behind the two of them, watching where they were going so as not to lose them in the crowd.

When the three of them entered, Holly's eyes took a moment to adjust. She waited patiently to be able to peer into the darkness, eager to observe her surroundings yet extremely dismayed that she would not get to experience it fully; her glasses, the pieces which she had shoved into her hoodie pocket, had been her portal through which she viewed the world, being nearly blind without them. She did not only squint to block out the light, but also to aid her dismal eyesight.

It was certainly going to be something that she sorely missed.

From what she could see as her vision became (somewhat) attuned to the sudden decrease in lighting, there was a large central counter, above which was situated a fixture from whence flooded a yellow light. The rest of the cantina, or bar, or whatever it happened to be, was fairly dim; dimmer than the Dreary Dug's inn by far.

While they were still standing in the lobby of the building, Holly could not sufficiently see any of the surrounding areas. Their little group strode forward, however, and the awe that flooded Holly's mind hindered any further thought.

She had seen the strange aliens when she was outside, and the first time, she had gotten indoors as quickly as she could, trying to evade both the heat and the possibility of an attack; she did not take time to sight-see much. The second time, she had barely been awake, despite having allegedly slept through the morning to midday. She was too busy mourning her glasses and attempt a shielding of her eyes from the light; she had not had much of an opportunity to gawk at the aliens in such close quarters.

When Holly thought of 'aliens,' many pictures came to mind. Of course, there were the greys, the stereotypical 'conspiracy' and 'alien abduction' invaders. Obviously, she thought of Vulcans, Klingons, Borg, Ferengi, Betazoids, and the like, being the native Trekkie that she was. Although recently, her extraterrestrial dictionary had been expanded to encompass Time Lords, with the mechanical Nazi-like Daleks and Cybermen, the threatening Weeping Angels and Vashta Nurada, repulsive Vogons and Navigators, and evil antagonists like Romulans and Cardassians (the pasty, rigged humanoids from DS9, mind you—not the….other kind).

It was a safe assumption to say that Holly was as familiar with sci-fi aliens as Deep Thought was with 42, though she doubted that anybody would ever actually use that idiom. The fact still remains that she, theoretically, should not have been out of her element, what with being raised around old reruns of _Star Trek_ and _Doctor Who._ However, no amount of science fiction on Earth could have prepared her for the real thing.

And she used the term 'real' operatively, of course.

The alien that had first caught her attention seemed to be looking straight at her. He was….odd, to say the least. He reminded her slightly of E.T. only in that they both had a wider upper face than they had jaw, but that was probably where the similarities ended; this creature's chin was so thin and its head was so flat that it looked like an upside-down triangle with two large, glowing yellow eyes. Many of the other aliens were reptilian in facial structure, yet it was obvious that they were humanoid in body proportions, mostly. If this really was just all from the movie, then the reasons for their human shaped was explained. But why the 'real' (still, operative) thing had to look as though it was a costume—albeit a very good costume—Holly could not guess.

"Holly," she heard.

Her head snapped around to look at Han Solo. She had completely forgotten the existence of anything other than the strange, interesting, and at the same time, completely terrifying aliens—who wouldn't be scared of something that looked like a Cosplay of something that really looked way cooler yet acted much more dangerous?—and the man was now beckoning her to continue walking forward, which she had, apparently, forgotten to do.

"What, Solo?"

"Stay away from any large groups….or any loners, for that matter. Just stay away from everybody." Holly was not quite sure what he meant by this: obviously, they were dangerous, but were they dangerous specifically to her because she was an outlander, or were they dangerous to everybody in general, whether they could fend for themselves or not? Basically, it all boiled down to whether Solo was insulting just her or everybody around her, too. "And don't stare."

"How can one not?" she asked rhetorically as they stepped further into the cantina.

She saw that there were many rooms, which were more like mere alcoves, in which a booth was situated; the windows, which were fixed into the walls on the side of each alcove, let in pure white light. The tables looked like upside-down trash bins painted to look less like a trash bin and more like a….pseudo-western….pseudo-science fiction mash-up thing.

Wait, did she just describe the set of _Firefly_?

Never mind. Holly looked around in complete awe, heeding Solo's words about 'not staring.' There were way too many things to look at to fixate on just one, so she didn't really have to worry about that. She wanted to see it all—see all of the aliens, all of the creatures, and all of the new technology—so that when she returns home (because she will return home; she'll find a way, somehow) she can tell all of her friends (all one of them, at least) about her adventures, and then get thrown into a nuthouse.

Good plan.

"Hey," Solo began, drawing her attention from everything around her back to himself and Chewie. "Go get a booth—we'll be waiting here for a while, at this rate," he said, gesturing to all of the people, or aliens, or whatever they were, crowded around each other. "There's usually an open one over there—" he pointed, ducking his head to look around a few aliens to ensure that what he said was correct. "Yeah. To your left. We'll get there in a moment."

"Yes, your highness," she grumbled, not liking the ease with which he demanded tasks of her. Of course he thought that just anyone would do his bidding—he was just the kind of man who would assume himself above others just because of his inflated head.

Holly began to weave through the crowd in the direction that he had pointed, skillfully dodging the quickly moving limbs and shifting bodies as the crowd spoke amongst themselves animatedly. At least, Holly liked to pretend that it was 'skillful': in reality, she brushed against people's shoulders and nearly tripped over way too many feet to be considered in any way skilled at this task. Finally, she reached the booth, sliding in and pressing her side against the surprisingly cool sandstone wall.

She had always liked corners. It was sort of her thing—whenever her family all went out to eat, everyone knew to save an inside seat for Holly. She was what she eloquently liked to call "the opposite of claustrophobic" which was not quite agoraphobia, for it did not reach to the extent of a fear of open spaces; she merely preferred being closed off.

Crossing one leg over the other, she rested her elbows on the rim of the table in front of her. She had to lean forward in order to do this, sitting already on the edge of her seat. It seemed that she was a bit smaller than the average alien occupant. In the center of the table sat a candlelight, dimly flickering with its obvious artificiality. Holly placed her hand palm-down on the table and observed the grime underneath her fingernails. She occupied herself with the act of cleaning them while she waited for the return of Solo, Chewbacca, and Xenon.

She soon became rather bored. Holly dug into her bag and extracted from its depths a book— _Ender's Game_ , by Orson Scott Card. It was one that she had read and reread many times previously; it was only still in her bag because she had been too lazy to put it back on her bookshelf. Flicking through it, she found a random page and began to read.

Time passed much more quickly this way. By the time that she had read through one chapter, she heard a cry of outrage emanating from Chewie's mouth. This noise was much different than the others that he had made, both in that it was deeper and louder, clearly much angrier.

Holly quickly looked over in the direction from which the sound had come. There stood Chewie and Solo, the latter placing a warning arm on the shoulder of the former. He stood glaring down at a man—and this actually was a man—who had, apparently, reached up to Chewie's shoulder vainly. He, the unnamed man, stood with his arms slightly raised, though he quickly lowered them as he gained onlookers.

Had he been reaching for Xenon? The little bug had, as of the last time she saw him, been sitting on Chewie's shoulder—the shoulder on the other side of her, that is; she could not see to affirm or deny her suspicions. She hoped that her bug was not the reason for Chewie's outrage, though that was the most likely explanation that she could think of.

Solo then detached from Chewie, walking slowly towards the man with swagger in his gait. Thumbs in his pockets and head tilted slightly to the side, he spoke slowly and quietly, words that she could not hear, though Holly saw his mouth moving. His eyebrows were raised in the same manner she adopted when she gave a smart-ass response to a question asked by anyone who thought themselves above her, so she recognized his face immediately.

He began to circle the man, pointing a mildly threatening finger at him as he cowered. The other man gulped and nodded his head, quickly turning around and running through crowds of people to heed to Solo's wishes.

Holly had to admit; Han Solo knew how to get things done, even if she didn't like the means by which he did it.

Solo and Chewie strode over to the table.

"What was that?" Holly asked when the two of them were in earshot. She had slid farther down from the inside, eager to see whether or not her Xenon was on the shoulder of the large ape before her—without her glasses, however, she could not be sure. "Is Xenon still there?"

"How can you not see that? Oh, might want to push over," he added the last as an afterthought, shooting a glance to Chewie. Holly lifted her gaze to see him standing by the bench on her side of the table, as if waiting to sit. Holly nodded and pushed over to where she had been, and the Wookiee sat next to her. "Yeah, that was….something I forgot to mention. There aren't any droids allowed in here."

Holly's head turned sharply to her left, where Chewbacca sat. "Did he take Xenon?"

As if in answer to her question, her little droid crawled over Chewie's neck into plain view. To her, at least. Technically, since he was on the Wookiee's back, neither of them actually saw him. Holly reached out quickly, welcoming the eager droid to crawl into her palm.

She brought him closer, scouring his different mechanisms, attempting to catch a glimpse of any harm inflicted upon him. Holly was relieved to complete her search empty-handed; there was nothing significantly out-of-place in his old plating, or anything remotely different about the movements of his creaky limbs.

"Obviously not," Solo scoffed. "He tried to, yeah, but that didn't sit well with Chewie." Holly shot a smile to the Wookiee, who roared quietly in response, though Holly had no idea what he had said. "I managed to convince him not to, because it isn't wise to anger a Wookiee." Holly could hear slight pride in his actions as Solo spoke.

"Thank you, Chewbacca," Holly said, pointedly not even looking at their other companion. She set Xenon on the table slightly reluctantly, for she wanted to forever keep a hold on him and keep him from danger, but she could also sense his restlessness.

On the table, Xenon began to walk the perimeter, looking around at nearly everything. Holly watched as he paced indecisively between herself and Chewie, and she smiled inwardly; she found herself enjoying the time with the Wookiee; he was so strange, strange in that he spoke to her and understood her, yet she could not to the same. Strange in that he had his own type of personality….despite looking like an elongated teddy bear.

And, her bug got along with him. Holly accepted her droid's judgement.

Holly had not realized that Solo carried two clear classes in his hands until he slid one over to her. Inside sat a blue liquid, like nothing Holly had ever ingested before. It looked like the blue form of Pepto Bismol, if anything, excluding the texture. It looked to be as thin as water, though it was alien. Holly eyed it warily.

Solo saw her eyeing look and sighed exasperatedly. "It's water," he explained, pointing to the glass.

"Excuse me, but _that,_ " she pointed in turn, "is _not_ water. Water is clear; that, however, is blue."

He sighed again. "It's purified," stated Solo, taking a sip of that in his own glass. "It's only blue as an advertisement gimmick."

Holly took the glass reluctantly, raising the rim to her nose. It did smell like water—at least, it didn't smell like anything else. And, swishing the glass around, Holly could see that it moved like water as well. Lifting it slowly to her lips, she tilted it upwards to allow a drop to reach her lips…at which point, she felt instant relief.

She had not realized just how chapped her lips had become, or how desperately her tongue craved for water. As one drop entered her mouth, her eyes closed in absolute delight—suddenly, her throat moistened, her tongue danced in delight of the water (no matter what people say, water did taste delicious) and, before Holly even noticed, she had downed half of her glass.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, perhaps the sincerest thing she had said since she met him. Solo nodded humbly, probably only because it was _her_ who happened to thank him. Anyone else, and it would have been much more graciously accepted.

"So what happened to those things you wore on your nose, in front of your eyes?" Solo asked her. Holly was pulled out of her reverie and she looked up at him, slightly confused.

"What—oh! My glasses. Yeah," she muttered, extracting them from her pocket and placing the two halves on the table. She lined them up, making them look at though the rim had never snapped in half and she could still slide them on. She held the rims with both of her hands and held them to her face as they would have sat if they were whole. "I have really bad eyes. These help—or, rather helped—me see clearly. Without them, I'm as blind to the world—whatever world that may be—as a Vogon is deaf to poetry."

A perplexed look flecked over his face. "Vogon? Poetry?" he questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"It would take too long to fully explain to _you_ ," she said, narrowing her eyes in annoyance. Some incredibly minute part of her, one that had long since been silenced by her teenage "I'll do whatever I want to and throw a fit if I can't" attitude, told her that she was being rather unreasonable, but seeing as it had been silenced, its words of wisdom went unheard to Holly's mind's ears.

"What happened to them?"

"Well, I got a bit tired of them and sent them on a vacation to Bajor," she snapped sarcastically, as if she had been speaking to her brother. "No, they broke, obviously. Snapped this morning."

"So now….you're blind?" he asked, slightly doubtfully.

"Uh…no, not exactly….but I can barely see you right now. You're just a blob of color," she explained, exaggerating slightly. "Honestly, I think you look better this way."

Han Solo raised his eyebrows in annoyance. "You know; you're not making this any easier for either of us."

 _Well, good thing that's not what I'm trying to do,_ Holly thought. Thankfully, she had enough sense to keep this particular musing quiet. Solo continued. "I, for one, cannot wait to be rid of you," he said, looking around. "But judging by the crowd, it doesn't look like that's gonna happen soon."

"Yeah, about that," Holly began, now genuinely curios. "What exactly will I be doing, working for….this place?"

"Now, I'm not entirely sure about this, because I've never personally known one, but the waitresses here…." Solo went on to explain to her what exactly she would do. It did not seem to be much different than waitress jobs back home; Holly, once hired, if hired, would be placed either in the kitchen or diner area. In the former, she would be in charge of her station at the kitchens, obviously, doing the dishes. Holly wondered what exactly that would entail; she knew that, on Earth, 'doing the dishes' meant immersing them in water and scrubbing away the food, but, as water here seemed to be as scarce as it was on Arrakis, did they use something else? Maybe they had a 'sonic dishwasher' as a sort of rip-off from _Star Trek: Voyager's_ sonic showers, and she just had to put away the dishes.

When working in the diner area, she would be the one who brought the food and refreshments to those seated at the tables. According to Solo, this job was much more dangerous; there were often fights amongst those in the cantina, and under those circumstances, waitresses usually don't bring them their food. However, both the customers and the bartenders can become very angry for misdemeanors such as those.

"And are fights in here very frequent?" she asked. When they spoke formally, there was less of a fight between them; Holly noticed, through evaluation of his facial expression, that he was just stating facts, not really thinking about who he was stating them to. It seemed to be a good strategy and Holly made a mental note to look into it.

"It all depends on what you consider to be 'frequent.'"

"Does it happen every day?"

"Multiple times."

Holly's eyebrows raised visibly and her surprise was apparent. Multiple times? This really was barbaric. Was fighting here different than the fighting in bars on Earth? Holly had never been inside one, of course, but she had seen them on television, and that had to count for something, even if that something was very minute.

Solo's normal attitude was adopted in what Holly saw as a blink of an eye, if even that. "Look, it's not all fun and games here. I don't know where you come from, but it isn't so nice in this corner of the galaxy."

Perhaps it was simply another statement that some bizarre twist of fate had thrust into her path to drive into her exactly how far away from a normal life she currently was, and perhaps she was just being overly dramatic, but something about that really struck a chord in Holly's hopes of returning home.

She did what was, quite possibly, the worst mistake of her life. Holly gulped and asked, "And which galaxy is that?"

It was Solo's time to be shocked. "Which?" he asked, his voice raising in volume due to sheer surprise. "Which, as in, which one of many?"

Holly nodded slowly, not saying anything. What had he found so shocking?

"You mean to tell me that you've been to multiple galaxies?" he asked incredulously.

Holly was silent for a long moment, considering her next words not-so-carefully. "I think so," she replied. Well, this was a long time ago in a galaxy _far, far away_ ; she must not be in the Milky Way any longer. She kind of had the Dorothy moment: she felt like she wasn't in Kansas anymore. "I don't recognize _any_ of these places from my research back home," she elaborated. "It's all so….strange. I've never set foot on this sand before a few days ago; hell, I'd never even heard of it…" she trailed off, looking around the cantina as if it would bring her answers to her unasked questions.

"Where are you from, then?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

Holly took a moment to answer. "I'm from Betazed," she replied.

"Betazed?" Solo asked. "Where is that?"

Holly considered carefully what she would say. If she described the location of the Earth, orbiting the star system Sol, in one arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, it would not sound as though she knew exactly where it was. This place had all of these classifications, with their 'Core Worlds" and "Outer Rim Planets." Holly would seem desperately uneducated if she gave anything less than an extremely detailed answer.

So she lied again. Technically.

"Well, only a few people call it Betazed," she finally decided. "It's official title is "Earth." Holly waited, reading carefully his facial expression, scanning for any change. She had a slight, slight hope….but, his blank expression, his eyes, which urged for her to continue, told her that the name was as unfamiliar to him as Tatooine had been to Holly.

He did not recognize the name of her home planet.

"It's in the Alpha Quadrant," she added, hoping that it would be significant enough to humor him until they could part ways. "M class planet, orbits Sol—that's our star—third rock from the sun."

Solo's head cocked to the side, one eyebrow raised. The corner of his mouth quirked. "What?" Holly asked, suddenly defensive. She did not like this expression.

"I have come to a conclusion," he said, leaning back until he reached the wall with his shoulder blades. "A completely obvious conclusion."

"Oh?" she questioned. "And what, might I ask, is your conclusion?" Her fingers absent-mindedly began to tap on the table, as if she were playing her piano. It was a force of habit.

"I have come to the conclusion that you are, without a doubt, utterly insane." He delivered the information with style, as if he expected this to be, somehow, news to her.

"Well, obviously," said Holly. "You only realized that now?"

42.

Time passed slowly for Holly. She had not realized how much she was anticipating this meet with the bartender until she had nothing else to worry about; in other words, arguing with Han took her mind off of the looming interview.

She knew that she probably shouldn't have been so hard on him. He was trying his best to help her out at least a little, what with attempting to get this job for Holly after she helped him stay…incognito in the inn. She just could not stand that sort of blatant arrogance in anyone, much less someone she just met; was that confidence backed up? Was he so prideful because he was proud of something he had done, some heroic act he had committed, of was he falsely confident, to the point of him being blatantly egotistical?

Holly realized that she knew next to nothing about Han Solo.

If only she were Clare. If she were the tall blond, the girl obsessed with Star Wars, she would know exactly what to do, exactly where to go. Of course, knowing Clare, she would probably join up with the heroes when they go….questing….or whatever it's called in this place.

Holly would never do that. She did not want to follow around Han Solo as he kills a bunch of people with his Wookiee ninja style or whatever it is that he does anyway.

Or was she already doing that? Was this place already in the story? Holly had never watched the movies; never had she shown an interest in something acclaimed for five-year-old boys. Holly assumed that it would be another cheesy Power Rangers type of movie, attracting little children only because of the explosions and cheap armor.

She had no idea what she was doing. Holly could only hope that choosing to work here would not sign her death sentence somehow, some obscure way that only a science fiction writer would come up with.

Holly remembered sorely her time with the two other droids. The short blue-and-white R2 unit had shown a unique emotion, despite his language being only an odd series of beeps. She had barely gotten to know him, but there was an overall impression of intricacy that surrounded him and his functions, his reason for doing what he did and how they may not always be completely understood.

And then, there was his partner, the droid that Holly had actually gotten to know. 3PO was by far the best thing that had happened on this world; she wondered what he was doing now. Did he do the same type of work she may soon be held accountable for? Was he the type who served food, cleaned houses, and groomed pets?

Holly yearned very badly to know what she had left her friends to do. The people who had bought them—as if they were mere slaves—Holly did not know what to think of them. Luke and his Uncle Owen were the first humans she had seen and thankfully, not the last, but she had learned next to nothing about them. Yes, she knew that they ran a supposed "moisture farm" (Holly wondered if that was literally what it was, someone who gathers moisture from the air and turned it into liquid water, or if that was a sort of local term for something else) but she knew nothing about their personalities further than what she had noticed while hiding.

Owen was very protective of his family; that much was obvious. He seemed to genuinely care for the welfare of his alleged wife (for Holly had never actually seen her) and nephew—but that told her nothing of how he treated his droids. 3PO and R2 were sentient beings, as far as Holly could tell, anyway. She desperately hoped that they were treated thus.

And this 'Luke'….Holly tried to remember what the last name of the main character in Star Wars was. She knew that his first name was Luke, but his last….it was….Star Treader, was it not? Luke Star Treader. Or Luke….Space Walker. Yes, that was right! Something-starting-with-an-'s'-walker….that was his last name. She wondered if they were the same people. She wished that she knew what Spacewalker something or other had looked like….if this was really him.

He, the Luke that she met the previous day, had shown her kindness; a type of kindness that she had not expected from anyone on this hostile world. It was a surprising thing to do, but the fact that she had not anticipated the action did not mean that it had not been welcome. She did not know where she would be if he had not directed her avoid the exact place she was in now.

She probably wouldn't have willingly come unto such a populated place anyway. So, technically, since he had directed her to the Dreary Dug and she met Solo in that inn, it was Luke's fault that she was here anyway. Still, she respected what he had done; it took a strong character to do that. Holly was immensely grateful.

"Oh, come on," she heard Solo mutter from across the round table. "Hurry up; we don't have all day."

Holly looked up to find that he was glaring impatiently at the bartender. The man behind the counter was serving the numerous people seated around the bar, bustling from one end to another, gathering and delivering drinks. He did look as though he could use the help of a waiter or waitress. Did he not have any?

"Solo," she began. "Where are his current waiters?"

Solo's gaze shifted to her. "He….recently went through a decline. In money. Had to lay them off," he explained hesitantly. "He's got better finances now."

"So basically, you don't know if he hires or not?" Holly may not be able to effectively pull off a lie, but she could see right through one. The way he hesitated at the wrong moments: it was not as though he were saving himself from an ill-thought plan by reluctantly explaining the details, but rather saving himself from an ill-thought plan by coming up with details on the spot. "You dragged me out here on a suspicion? Or was it even that? Why am I here?" she questioned harshly. "I will get a job, will I not?"

Chewie let out a moan in answer to her question, but she could not understand him. Holly continued to stare at Solo imploringly.

"Well….not exactly….you will get a job, hopefully," Solo paused, waving his hand around as if it would conjure up answers. "I mean, I don't see why he wouldn't hire you," he stated in a rushed manner. "Young, pretty face should be good for business."

Holly raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You have no idea if he'll hire me," she translated again, not buying into his lie for one moment.

"No," he admitted reluctantly. His eyes shifted down as if in humility, a trait that was not usual for him. "But there's no logical reason why he wouldn't."

"Oh," she said, "of course not! Who _wouldn't_ hire an eighteen-year-old girl, barely out of school, to work in a bar on a planet she had no idea even _existed_ forty-eight hours ago!" Sarcasm.

"You're only seventeen?" Oh, damn.

"Well," she began, trying to save herself. "Yeah, but I'm almost eighteen." Actually, she was only just seventeen; barely ten days ago had been her birthday. But he didn't need to know that.

He didn't need to know any of it; it was just Holly and her large mouth that betrayed information she would rather have left unrevealed.

"Uh-huh," he replied, still obviously skeptical. "Right."

"Like it matters to you anyway," she grumbled.

She glanced around, looking once more to the bartender. Still he was serving customers, some being aliens that who she recognized from earlier, some being newcomers. There was, however, an empty area on the side closest to their booth's position; Holly sprung up in her seat.

"Excuse me," she said to Chewie. He stood up, moving aside to let her pass.

"Where are you going?" She looked back to Solo for a moment before turning back to face the bar.

"I'm going to talk to the bartender," she replied as if it were obvious. It was, honestly.

42.

Truth be told, Holly did not end up speaking with the bartender.

She had never liked being the person to go up to speak to people behind the counter; she avoided it, when at all possible. She certainly did not like interrupting the other person's activities to speak to them; in order to discuss anything with the bartender, she would have to catch his attention somehow, and that was the worst part of human interaction.

So, in the end, she did not talk to him.

At some point, Chewie approached her and stood at her side. She had not even realized that it was vacant until she heard his roar beside her; Holly's head rose to look at him. He looked at her in turn, and Holly knew what he wished to communicate: What of speaking to the bartender?

"Sorry, Chewie," she said as Xenon crawled from the shoulder of the Wookiee to the counter in front of her. "I'm dreadfully shy, unfortunately, to….certain types of people."

Mainly, the people type of people. The ones who did not speak to her first. And even then, sometimes, she ignored those too.

She began to play with Xenon once more. She could not speak until he was close to her ear (at least, she could not hear him speak) but she felt as though he communicated with her all the same. He crawled from her two hands fluidly, with a certain ease of motion that Holly knew could be mastered by no other life form, organic or otherwise.

It was transfixing.

Chewie had turned away from her. She did not pay him much mind, choosing to divide her attention only one way; Xenon's movements, she knew, were slightly hindered by rust and old age, but Holly would not have known any difference. She could imagine nothing more captivating now than the bug before her, and Holly only tore her gaze away from him when she heard the bartender shout,

"We don't serve their kind here!"

She glanced up, finding the rather large and scowling man behind the bar pointing a threatening finger in the direction of the door, his gaze nearly menacing. Holly followed his line of sight and turned around, peering through the dim and murky cantina to behold the newcomers that had caused such an outrage in the bartender.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight she beheld, eyebrows raising and jaw slacking in astonishment. Before she even uttered a single word, she had sprung from her current position and was shoving many aliens aside—rather rudely—in her haste to reach the entrance.

Holly vaguely heard a voice ask, "What?" The voice itself was familiar in some way, but she was too busy not paying attention to anyone else at all to match it to a face.

"Your droids," replied the bartender, though Holly did not hear. "They'll have to wait outside. We don't want them here."

"3PO!" Holly cried once she reached her golden friend. "Oh, my god, C-3PO!"

42.

So. Not much happened in this chapter, but it did sort of build up to what will happen next; I feel like the real action is finally starting. And what is this with Holly's dream? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

Please, review, follow, and favorite, if you so choose!


	7. Chapter 7

Greetings! Another week, another chapter; it seems that they will come weekly, since they're about three thousand words more than the first one was, and I'm digging myself into a deeper and deeper hole of Honors coursework.

On another note, I'm a bit worried; are the chapters getting too long? I fear that I have begun to ramble. Any feedback on the subject would be appreciated.

Time Lady Tinkerbell: Don't worry; I can't have my OC and one of the best characters of all time hate each other forever. And I couldn't let her stay on Tatooine; one, I'm no sadist (both to Holly, who would have to live there, and the readers, who would have to read about it) and two, she can't just miss out on all the action. Anyhow, your reviews always make me grin :) I'm glad for your continued support.

Disclaimer: I have no rights to any franchise, let alone one of the most successful ones of all time. Unfortunately.

42.

"Captain Troi?"

The robotic voice rang out in the room clearly. Despite the rather catchy song playing in the background and the odd band playing it, Holly only focused on one thing: her droid was back.

C-3PO WAS BACK.

She launched herself up to hug the droid. It was odd and uncomfortable to hug someone who was made entirely of metal, but Holly was so excited that she did not realize the peculiarity of the situation. Her face lit up in a smile so wide that it actually hurt her still chapped lips, but she could not help the immense joy she felt at the sight of her friend again.

She had never expected to see him again, half beginning to think that he was just a figment of her imagination while her body had been deprived of water and sleep. It would have been a major blow to her sanity for Holly to realize that she had been missing a fake robot so dearly.

"Oh, 3PO, I've missed you!" she exclaimed, still beaming up at him. "I never expected to see you ever again!"

"Why," he stated, "neither did I, Captain. Quite an odd circumstance this is. Never will you _believe_ what has happened." The familiar way with which he stressed certain syllables and the tone he spoke in made her grin even more.

But there was one issue. He mustn't call her _Captain Troi_. Solo knew her as simply "Holly", as did Chewie; she can't forget that they were both still in the cantina. Chewie was only a few feet away. She was mixed up herself as to who she was to certain people, and she could hardly begin to think of what Xenon must think of her name.

"Hmm….3PO, you needn't call me "Captain" any longer," she corrected. "It's unlikely that I'll ever return to my ship. My closest friends usually call me Holly," she said. "'Deanna Troi' is just formal."

"As you say, Ca—um, Miss Holly, ma'am," 3PO agreed with slight difficulty.

"Listen," came a voice from behind her. "Why don't you wait out by the speeder? We don't want any trouble." The voice was familiar, the same one that she had ignored from before. She had overcome her shock enough to actually listen to it for once—listen to the voice that belonged to Luke something or other.

She whirled around to rake her eyes over his face, ensuring that this was, indeed, the same person. Well, of course it was! She wasn't stupid, even though her recent bouts of empty-mindedness stood as contrary evidence. If 3PO was here, there must be the person who had bought him; she was certain that the droid wouldn't stray very far. "I heartily agree with you," 3PO said as Holly turned.

"What are you doing here?" both Luke and Holly said simultaneously. "Wait, no, 3PO! You can't leave now!" Holly interjected, turning and halting his progress out of the door.

"I'm sorry," Luke said, "but it's company policy that there aren't any droids allowed inside." Holly was about to grumble that _her_ droid was here, so 3PO could very well stay, but she then remembered that it was only because of Chewbacca that her droid could remain. Having a Wookiee next to you was helpful.

"But, 3PO—" she called out, turning back to the golden droid's receding back. She did not move forward, though she desperately wanted to; many things grounded her here, now. And, it wasn't as if she couldn't just go outside later. Holly merely settled with seeing him after her business here was done, whatever that business was. That, and she could not likely follow him: without her glasses, she wouldn't be able to find him. Was she now Velma from Scooby Doo or something?

She turned back to Luke. "So, why are you here?" she asked again. But she still couldn't believe what had happened; 3PO was finally here! How had that droid known? He said that he may see her again. She had immensely doubted him; why would their paths ever meet? But, here he was, with Luke Possibly-Something-Walker. Where was R2? He must have been waiting by the speeder already. Or, he entered and she didn't see.

And it was another thing entirely that they had to leave so quickly; this universe really wasn't fair. She just wanted to talk to her droid friends, and she couldn't even do that.

But still, the question remained: why was Luke here? As she waited for his answer, she observed his appearance; he was still wearing the white tunic, the style of which reminded Holly of wizard's robes, for some reason. She understood the practicality of everything he wore being white; it absorbed the least heat, and that would have been a good thing to be prepared for. She, however, had a pair of black jeans and a hoodie. Holly was fortunate that she could stay indoors for most of her day.

Luke cleared his throat, looking down for a moment. "I'm….I'm here with a friend," he finally said. "I—we're looking for someone."

Holly was about to make a jibe about "wasting time with his friends once his chores are done" before she noticed the sad look in his blue eyes. She had never been the best around people and never claimed to be, but even she could see the difference between this and the way that Luke had been the day before, even though she hadn't seen him much. Eyes downcast and mouth in a downward curve, she knew, were sure signs of discontent. Or not getting enough sleep. Either way, he did not seem to be in the best of moods.

"Um….okay," she said, not really knowing how to go on. Glancing around, Holly tried to spot Solo, not because she wished to return but because she had left her bag at the table. She knew where the booth was, but she could not see anything but a large, multi-colored blur. "Err….can you….maybe….see over there? Is there a dude with a stupid face still sitting there?" she pointed in the direction of her interest, still trying to see herself.

"Uh—what? Sorry, that was a pretty vague description," he said, walking up to the counter. The young man chose a spot next to a grey-haired and bearded man—The man to whom Chewie had turned to speak. They were still deep in conversation. Holly followed him, close enough to see that Han Solo was, indeed, still seated at their booth, though all she could make out of his form was an odd dark blur. He lounged back as if bored, though Holly could not know for certain, being unable to distinguish his face.

"Never mind," Holly said as they walked up to the counter. "I can see him now."

"'Now'?" questioned Luke. "Well, I do suppose it's rather crowded in here," he thought aloud, considering the many groups of aliens just standing around.

"Oh, no," Holly corrected, "it's not because of the people. No, actually," Holly pulled from within her pockets the two broken halves of her glasses, holding them up for Luke's examination. He peered at them curiously, seemingly unfamiliar with the ocular instruments. "I'm actually quite blind without these glasses. They bend the light that I see—focusing it too far in front of the retina." She figured that these people here did not know what glasses were, since Solo obviously hadn't; she might as well explain.

He nodded, probably only pretending to understand what she was talking about. "That means that I can't see clearly more than two feet in front of my face," she explained, seeing his confusion. His mouth made an 'o' shape as he nodded again, either in genuine comprehension or in the hopes of shutting her up. He reached over to tug on the sleeve of the bartender, motioning for man to serve a glass of whatever he was currently concocting. Holly stared openly at the obviously unabashed way in which Luke conducted this act, quite surprised at his familiarity. She could tell that he was not used to being surrounded by aliens of such large and threatening variety, but he did not seem particularly shy, either.

"So, did you come straight here once you left?" Luke asked, turning to her once he received his drink. _Oh, yeah,_ Holly remembered. _He advised me not to come here._ Was he insulted that she had not followed his advice? Holly had to fight to keep a sheepish, embarrassed expression from making its way onto her face as she alleviated the tension that she was not even sure existed by her ill attempt at humor.

"No," Holly answered. "I visited Magrathea and spoke with Deep Thought for a while, then I decided to get a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster here."

Sarcasm had long since been her outlet for anxiety. A perplexed expression crept back onto Luke's face and Holly sighed; she had been trying to shake the bad habit of making jokes that literally no-one she knew would grasp, but evidently, she had not yet been successful.

"Sorry. Actually, I did take into account your 'words of wisdom' and went to the Dreary Dug or whatever it was called," she corrected. "But I ran into the _charming_ Han Solo and he tried to kill my droid."

"Your droid?" questioned the blond. "Droid's aren't allowed in here, like I said before."

"Yeah, about that," she paused, thinking of a way to phrase it. "Solo's Wookiee stole him and scared the security into allowing him. I think. At least, that's what Solo said anyway."

"Wookiee?" Luke asks incredulously. "That Wookiee? Talking to Ben?" He jabbed a thumb behind him, glancing at them over his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, but Holly couldn't tell if it was fear or just plain surprise. To be honest, he seemed to look at every alien around here with slight timidity, though she could tell that he was trying to hide the fact. "I can see why the guards backed off." He looked back to her, his clear blue eyes still slightly wide.

"Yeah, Chewie's _really_ scary," she said, not really sure if she should be telling Luke any of this. "So, that's the friend who's looking for someone?" Holly motioned to this 'Ben.'

"Um, yeah," he said. "He—"

Luke was interrupted rather rudely by hands being placed, rather roughly, on both of their shoulders, turning Holly and Luke around to look at the offender. He was….an alien.

Of course.

But, this one was particularly disgusting. What they were staring at had a large dark grey head with two prominent black eyes, no iris or sclera; it was just pure black. There was no distinguishable nose, only a Voldemort-esque type of rise. And, where there would usually be a mouth, were situated two….well, Holly didn't quite know what to describe them as. They could have been fangs, they could have been skin, they could have _been_ his mouth, if his mouth were vertical instead of horizontal. She openly gaped with wide, fear-filled eyes.

The thing made an odd gurgling sound, as if he were gargling water, though this was less….bubbly. More like gargling mixed with growling. Whatever it was, it scared the wits out of Holly, who subconsciously backed into Luke. She felt him turn back to glare at the counter, like he had done before, but Holly was frozen in place as if petrified.

She saw someone else approach. He was less hideous than the other monster only slightly; at least this man appeared to be human. Or, at least, to have been human once; his nose and mouth, horribly distorted as if having suffered multiple burns and deformities, gave him a vile, animalistic pig look.

"He doesn't like you," the pig man said in a gruff voice to the two of them.

"I'm sorry," said Luke, in a rather brave 'deal with it' type of attitude. Holly, who merely gulped, wondered where he found his courage. Luke turned back to the counter. She couldn't see, of course, because she was till unmoving, but she felt his shoulder brush against her back.

"I don't like you either," snarled the man again, grapping Luke's shoulder harshly, turning him around in a slightly more vigorous manner than the monster—the other one—had.

Holly did not know then and certainly did not know now why she did it; all she was aware of was the fact that, one moment, her arms were placidly at her sides—albeit with clenched fists—and the next, she had struck out at the man's arm, forcing his strong hand away from Luke's shoulder. His head turned to focus on her, a growling sound making its way to her ears as both of his hands locked onto her forearm in a vice-like grip from which she could not wrench free.

"You just watch yourselves," the man said. "We're wanted men. I have the death sentence in twelve systems."

 _Really a fact that you want to be advertising,_ Holly thought to herself, attempting to pull her arm from his grasp, but in vain. "Hey, let go of her!" cried Luke in outrage, laying a hand on Holly's shoulder as she continued to struggle., the other attempting to push the offender's arms away.

The man lets go of Holly, choosing to combat Luke with a blow to the shoulder.

Holly hears a voice from behind them, sounding as though it came from the old man on the other side of Luke. "These little ones aren't worth the effort," he said, as if trying to convince him to keep his hands off, a proper English accept clear in his voice. "Come, let me buy you something…." But Ben did not get to finish his sentence.

A strong arm swept across Luke, sending him tumbling to the ground, crashing into and loudly knocking over a table. This action caught the attention of many aliens surrounding them, the onlookers expecting a fight to break out. Holly was soon sent to follow Luke, landing in a heap on the floor next to him.

She could not breathe; the wind had been knocked clean from her lungs. Trying to catch her breath, Holly barely managed to see what was going on before her.

With immense speed that Holly would not have associated with the old man, he pulled a cylindrical object from his belt loop. His fingers activated a switch, which sent a beam of light through the air, forming the shape of a sword.

Ben had a lightsaber. A real, right-in-front-of-you-and-not-a-toy lightsaber, emitting a bright blue light. Holly's eyes grew in shock and she finally managed to breathe, even if it was only a shocked gasp.

It two fluidic motions, the old man swung the saber at the offenders. It all seemed to happen before Holly could even register it: there was a vibrating type of swooshing noise from the lightsaber as he wielded the weapon and with it, attacked the two monsters.

In an instant flash of light, both men were cowering on the floor, one curled on his side and clutching his arm.

To her horror, Holly saw that, on the ground in front of her, was a bloodied, severed arm.

Exclaiming in shock, Holly scrambled to her feet and backed away from the severed limb. She brought her hands to her mouth and covered it as she gasped in surprise yet again, staring down at the arm with a horrified look on her face.

Holly had never been particularly squeamish with anything other than mammal blood. She could handle dissecting fish in her seventh grade biology class, and frogs were no trouble either. But mammals—she had to leave the classroom when her ninth grade biology teacher presented a still-bloody and clotted pig heart to the unsuspecting class. Of course, Holly had no qualms with her own injury: she hurt herself way too often for that to be acceptable. Yet, if a friend had so much as a bruise, she would flinch.

Unless she caused the bruise, of course.

But the sight of the arm caused her face to pale drastically. Even though its owner had not been human, it was humanoid; she watched as blood slowly dripped from the open end.

Holly could bear it no longer. She quickly rushed away, pushing past people in her effort vacate the scene. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her hands trembling as she rushed to the closest thing with which she was familiar: Chewbacca.

She took up the spot where Ben had just stood, leaning over the counter and burying her face in her palms. Holly did not sob, though her breath was ragged; she heard the 'whoosh' of the elder's lightsaber as he deactivated it and placed the weapon back into his belt.

Holly heard Chewie roar softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She guessed that the gesture was supposed to be comforting, and gratitude swelled in her heart for the Wookiee, even if he did steal away her droid. Holly glanced up at him and smiled shakily.

"Thanks," she said, stammering a bit. Regaining her regular manner slowly, she glanced back at Luke; Ben proffered a hand, which Luke tightly grasped, pulling himself to his feet.

"I'm alright," he said. Ben turned around to look at Holly and Chewbacca, the latter of whom sported a frantically chirping Xenon on his shoulder. Holly barely heard him, but the mere fact that she heard him at all said that he was humming very loudly. He crawled from Chewie's shoulder and jumped into Holly's unsuspecting hand, nuzzling into her palm before climbing onto her shoulder in turn.

"Are you alright, miss?" the old man asked in a friendly voice, looking upon her with knowing eyes, yet which somehow held a type of mild curiosity.

Holly coughed to clear her throat and shook her head to clear her mind. "Yeah, yeah," she said. "I'm fine."

"I'm assuming that you are not accustomed to the sight of a lightsaber fight," he mused, nodding towards the crowd, which had begun to disperse. The music began nonchalantly, and everything went back to normal, as if this were a usual occurrence. _Is this what Solo meant, a fight every day?_ She pondered. "What is your name?"

"I'm Holly, sir," Holly spoke in a respectful tone, a deep regarding reverence of the elderly ingrained in her since she was a small child, even if said elder had just unsheathed a sword previously thought (by her, at least) to be solely a part of a science fiction franchise and severed a man's arm with it.

She didn't blame him, honestly. It seemed that a man must do what a man must do, even if that meant causing an opponent to lose an arm.

"Well," said he, "it seems you are acquainted with Chewbacca, here," Ben beckoned to the Wookiee, who approached the group of three with a loud statement, understood by no-one except Ben, apparently.

Ben turned to Luke as the three began to walk forward. "This is Chewbacca," the wizened man said, pointing to the Wookiee behind him. He's first-mate on a ship that might suit our needs."

Holly followed the Luke, Ben, and Chewie, though which she was following, she was not sure. She glanced to Chewie in surprise, not knowing that he worked on a ship; since the Wookiee was first-mate, did that mean that Solo was captain? Or did they both work for the same person? Holly quickly dismissed that notion; the abrasive man had not seemed the sort to take orders from anybody, much less work on a ship under a captain. That meant….Han Solo must be the captain himself.

Holly rounded on Chewie, yet it was not in an angry manner. "Solo's a captain?" she inquired, tilting her head upwards to peer at him with curious eyes. The Wookiee roared and nodded his affirmative, knowing that she would not understand his speech.

"It's not a wonder that never came up," she said. She had not asked about what he did for a job; considering her first impression of him where he needed her to act as his social shield and hide him from the authorities, she had assumed that he merely….broke the laws for a living. Not entirely sure what laws he had broken, Holly did not know why she thought that being a fugitive was all he did. He had to make a living elsewhere; stealing apples from street salesmen didn't exactly support the type of lifestyle that Holly thought Solo lead.

"Why do you need Solo's ship?" she asked. Solo did own the ship, right? She hoped dearly that she was not wrong. That would be embarrassing.

Ben and Luke shared a look. It seemed to Holly that they were both asking the other for permission. Ben nodded silently, glancing back at her for a moment before answering. "We seek a ship that can bring us out of the system."

Holly's ears instantly perked up. She did not know why, but the term 'out of the system' brought a spark of hope into her heart. "You need to leave the planet?" she asked, her voice raising an octave unintentionally in her newfound excitement. "What for?"

Ben sighed, sharing another look with Luke. The latter seemed to be about to respond, but a soft shake of the head from Ben silenced him. "That is a matter of slight secrecy in which I must ask you not to pry," he said.

His tone, his posh, old-guy British tone, which was laced with an understood sort of authority, effectively quieted her questions. The ones she voiced aloud, at any rate; in her mind, she was firing off request after request, disappointing herself when she couldn't answer them right away.

One of those questions was, could she herself get off of this planet?

Han Solo had a ship. At first, she had assumed that they meant a ship that traversed the seas; why she would have assumed that was unknown, for it was obvious that they were nowhere near a sea. If Mos Eisley was the most prominent city on the planet, it would have been a port city if ever there was one. But, this planet, this "Tatooine," seemed devoid of precious water.

What a shame. It really had bitten off of Arrakis.

The group soon arrived at the booth she, Solo, and Chewie had previously occupied. She squinted to survey the table, delighted to see that her bag was still lying on the table, not touched by Solo and his money-obsessed hands.

Solo stood as they saw him approaching. Holly was once again reminded of his blaster, which hung lazily off of his hip, though she was sure not to focus on that aspect; if there was anything worse than being afraid of a man with a gun, it was _showing_ the man that she was afraid.

Luke and Ben stopped a few steps short, allowing the two others to move forward. Holly quickly slid into the seat that Solo had just sat in, retrieving her bag quickly. "Xenon, buddy," she whispered to her bug, "you may want to power down for a moment." She did not want to attract much more attention from the bartender. The man who had seen Ben literally chop another man's arm off was now eyeing them warily, trying in futility to be discreet. The next time Holly caught him glancing their way, she was sure to raise her eyebrows pointedly; she would not have been so bold up close, but it effectively caused him to look away. She slid Xenon into her hoodie pocket, where she knew he would be safe.

Chewie reported the events to Solo, who had likely been watching anyway. She was slightly surprised when Solo turned to her suddenly, eyes raking over her face in sharp analysis, brows raised oddly. "You're afraid of blood?"

"Thanks, Chewie," she grumbled, glaring at the Wookiee. He roared what she understood as a half-hearted apology. "Um, no," she said, though a noise from Chewie and another raised eyebrow from Solo caused her to glance down sheepishly. "Well, maybe," Holly admitted reluctantly, "but only a little but…."

Solo scoffed. He turned back to Chewie with a chuckle, who resumed speaking; throughout, he motioned to the two newcomers with one furry hand, while Solo nodded occasionally in understanding.

They ceased their discussion, the tall Wookiee sliding into the booth. Holly pushed over, making room for the captain and his first-mate. Huh. Captain Solo. She tried the name out on her tongue silently. It seemed to fit, oddly enough. Luke and Ben sat as well, the latter next to Holly and Luke next to him.

"Han Solo," the captain (the real one, not the impersonating captain) greeted as he took a seat. "Captain of the _Millennium Falcon_. Chewie here tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system."

Han's voice sounded deeper, more official. Much less….obnoxious. Holly considered him closely, wondering if he really could be more than an annoying thief with an (admittedly) cool Wookiee who happened to have an affinity for stealing droids. _Millennium Falcon_ ….Holly liked the way it sounded. Even if Solo did say "falcon" weirdly.

Ben kept his eyes trained on Solo as he nodded. "Yes, indeed," he affirmed, "if it's a fast ship." Where could they need to go, and on what pretense, in such a hurry?

Solo leaned forward, an incredulous look in his eyes as he spoke. "Fast ship?" he questioned in disbelief, as if such a suggestion were audacious. "You've never heard of the _Millennium Falcon_?" Or, you know, an obvious one.

Ben shook his head, still looking the captain in the eye. "Should I have?"

Well, I haven't either, Gandalf, so that means: yeah, probably.

"It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs," Solo countered, acting as though he were forced to be captain obvious. Ben and Holly both had mirroring expressions of confusion; was the Kessel Run a type of maneuver, or length of time? It sounded like a race or strip of land (excuse me, strip of space), in which case, it would not make sense for the term "parsecs" to be used as a comparison; a parsec was a measurement of distance. Solo was obviously boasting with unbacked truths. Luke seemed to buy it, anyhow. Ben just narrowed his eyes in disbelief "I've outrun Imperial Starships," Solo tried to improve his boasting. "Not the local bulk cruisers, mind you; I'm talking about the big Corellian ships, now. She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"

Holly crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Solo with an unimpressed eye. Since she didn't know what all of those titles meant, none of it mattered to her.

Ben smirked. He glanced at Holly, narrowing his eyes in a pensive manner for a moment, yet long enough to make Holly wonder what he meant. It couldn't have been on accident. "Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two droids," he intensified his stare at Solo and finished in a firm voice, "and no questions asked."

"What is it, some kind of local trouble?"

"What happened to no questions asked?" Holly inquired weakly. She did not try to be heard over the rather nice music, but she had to say it anyway.

"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements." Holly did not have to wonder long to realize that the Imperials were the white-armored soldiers from outside; Solo had been running from them; he had run from 'Imperial Starships,' too, apparently. Not a big leap to assume that they were both part of the same agency.

Solo leaned back, his head still cocked to the side in that arrogant manner. "Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" he asked, glancing quickly at Chewie. "And it's gonna cost you something extra. Ten thousand in advance."

Holly's momentary 'thinking this version of Solo was better than the other one' dissipated quickly. Honestly, she didn't know why she was surprised; people had to earn a living, after all, but she still did not like his manner of conducting things. Ten thousand was quite a lot, wasn't it? Even by American standards, that was pricey, and the American dollar had been inflated to near worthlessness; it must have been a fortune.

Luke seemed to agree with her. "Ten thousand?" he exclaimed. "We could almost buy our own ship for that!"

"And who's gonna fly it, kid? You?" Solo asked, as if the very idea were absurd. Well, it probably was, but the sneer that he adopted and the look in his eyes caused Holly's expression to darken in dislike even more.

Without missing a beat, Luke exclaimed, "You bet I could! I'm not such a bad pilot myse—" he cut himself short, turning to Ben and muttering angrily in pure teenage disagreement, "We don't have to sit here and listen…."

This made Holly wonder how old Luke actually was. "We can pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan." Ben seemed to agree wholeheartedly with this price, even raising it, ignoring Luke's outburst. Was he filthy rich or something?

Solo took the liberty of being a bit surprised. "I'm assuming that's a lot of money?" Holly piped up rather stupidly.

"Seventeen?" Solo questioned, slight awe in his voice, answering her question as before shooting her a glance that said, _where did you come from, a hermit dwelling?_ He considered for a moment while Ben nodded. "Okay," he agreed, "you've got yourself a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking bay ninety-four."

"Ninety-four," Ben echoed. Luke still looked aggravated, but he nodded anyway. Even Holly could tell that it probably wasn't wise to argue with Ben.

They all looked as though they prepared to disperse before a comment from Solo stopped them all. "Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork," he said, nodding to something across the cantina.

Nearly every eye (every eye at the table, at least) caught the glint of white armor and the obvious officer or trooper or whatever they were standing at the bar, holding a gun threateningly and interrogating the bartender. The latter pointed in their general direction, and Holly quickly averted her gaze, staring down at the bag in her lap.

Here was a slight movement and, in one moment, the two who had been seated here asking for a ferry ship had disappeared. Holly stared in awe.

The white-armored troopers approached their table. Holly stole a worried glance at Solo who, to her great surprise, merely sat, in a slightly threatening stance, glaring at the approaching troopers. Holly experienced a moment of intense panic, her eyes fixating on their guns, which they held at the ready in their hands. Chewbacca, as well, glared at them, and he managed to look even scarier than Solo.

Apparently, Solo's foul attitude was completely normal, because the troopers just walked away.

Simple as that.

Once they were out of earshot, Holly asked aloud, "What?"

Han Solo just straightened his back and slapped his knee. "Seventeen thousand!" he stated in disbelief. "Those guys must really be desperate. This could really save my neck!" Solo added hopefully as he and the Wookiee stood. Holly followed suit. "Get back to the ship, and get it ready!"

Chewie nodded, leaving. Holly watched him retreat back into the crowd. Once he was gone, she rounded on Solo. "What exactly—" she was finally going to ask at least a few of the millions upon millions of questions currently rushing through her brain like a steam train before he silenced her, pointing his index finger to her face.

"You should probably go after them," he advised. "The old man seems to know you."

She was about to argue—before she realized that what he said was exactly what she wanted to do. "What? How do you figure?"

Solo raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Well, for one, I'm not blind. Nobody could hear you speak and not be completely confused. That Kid was so unfamiliar with everything, it's no surprise he looked at you like you were one of those aliens. But that old fossil, now….he looked like he'd known you his whole life."

Holly cocked her head to the side in confusion. "What? Neither of them did that."

"You obviously don't spend that much time around people, do you, girl?"

Holly sighed, knowing exactly how right he was. It was twice now that he had bested her, common-sense wise; she would have to up her game soon. She couldn't be out common-sensed. "You know what? I'm too tired to argue with you. Bye."

With that, Holly snatched her bag from the table and started for the exit, following Luke and Ben through the doorway and walking into the desert streets beyond.

42.

Holly squinted, both to see farther and to block the sunlight. That didn't help much, so she raised a hand in a salute-type of gesture to act as a covering over her brow. Scanning the area, she searched for any sign of the two men; she saw what she figured to be them, though she wasn't absolutely certain until she rushed up to greet them.

"Sir!" she called, begging the universe not to have led her to some hostile alien. It seemed that she was in luck, for once, for as the figure halted and turned around, she recognized him as Ben.

"Ah, Holly," he said, smiling. "I was hoping you would follow."

She raised her eyebrows in confusion, her expression mirroring Luke's. "Err….okay. Yeah. Sir, do I know you?" Obviously she did not, but it seemed as though he knew her, if Solo was to be believed. At least, he thought he did.

"How would you know him?" interjected Luke's inquisitive tone. "You said you had just crashed here."

Holly glanced around quickly, thinking of an excuse. "I was just—"

"Luke," began Ben, "I believe she meant that as an implicative." His gaze turned to Holly. "No, I do not believe that we have. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi." He held out a hand.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" she asked, shaking the proffered hand. The name sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps Clare had mentioned it? "I thought he," she inclined her head to Luke, "said you were 'Ben' or something of that sort."

Obi-Wan, as he was apparently called now, chuckled. "'Ben' is to myself as Troi is to you, young one," he said. Her eyes widened. How—how had he known? He must have heard 3PO address her thus, but where had he learned that it was her alias? Unless….did he just think that Troi was her formal name, and Ben was his? She would have thought it was vice-versa, given the name Obi-Wan, but perhaps she was just being paranoid.

"Luke, why don't you find a place to sell your speeder?" Obi-Wan suggested. "You'll have to sell it if we wish to give the captain his down payment."

"How much do we have to sell it for?" Luke asked.

"Don't worry about that. We will catch up to you in just a moment." Luke nodded and rushed off. He disappeared into the blur that was the sand before he disappeared into the distance, but nonetheless, he was gone.

"What did you mean by that?" she asked, referring to his previous remark. She was glad that the meaning was not lost to him when she saw the knowing look in his eyes.

"Oh, the naivety of the young will never cease to amaze me," Obi-Wan sighed. "Holly, my dear, do you honestly expect anyone to believe your 'captain' fabrication?"

She was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. "Uh—well—" she fumbled with her words, heart beating much to quickly in anticipation for her to save herself quickly enough to even attempt a justification. She sighed, knowing that she was defeated. "What….how did you know about that, anyway?"

"Why, Luke, of course," he stated, as if it were obvious. "Apparently, you had gotten a ride from a sandcrawler. You and two droids that you planned on stealing."

"He told you that? That's farther from the truth than anything! I—"

"What he told me," Obi-Wan interrupted pointedly, "was what his uncle believed to be true. He, however, was under the impression that you were an outlander."

"Well, he's right!" she did not expect her voice to raise to such a high level as she defended herself. "I don't know what he told you, but I wasn't trying to steal anything."

"Is that so?" He began walking forward, Holly having no choice but to follow. "How did you come by the Lock Pick, then?"

"Excuse me? Lock Pick?" she asked, thoroughly confused. She didn't pick locks.

"Your droid; they were called 'Lock Pick' soon after their creation, named after the ease with which they can crawl into locking systems. Obviously, you didn't acquire it through honest sales."

"Err….no, not exactly. But I didn't steal him; he just started talking to me. Well, buzzing. Same thing." She paused for a moment. "But I—we, that is, C-3PO and I—we were zapped by those….hmm, what did he call them….Jawas? Yeah. Then, we woke up on their 'sandcrawlers' and the droids—they were about to be sold to Luke and his Uncle…."

As Holly continued to explain what had occurred, she found herself wondering why exactly she was telling him this; it may have been the fact that he was the first person who was genuinely curious and did not seem harmful (what was she thinking? Holly had seen this man chop off an alien's arm—with just a bunch of concentrated light!), or that he seemed to know when she was lying anyway. Holly did not find it in herself to refuse answering to the look he gave her; so stern, demanding, yet in a constructive way. She just found herself telling him everything.

It began with the sudden 'awakening' in the desert. Holly intentionally left off what she had been doing before then, and he did not ask her; she did not need to be thrown in some space asylum for lack of sanity, which she was certain was the case. She explained to Obi-Wan how she had met Solo, being sure to include her thoughts of him—and then, finally, why she had lied about her Captainship.

She hardly knew herself, but she assumed that it was because it was much more believable than the truth. That's what she told him, anyway, and she didn't even bother explaining what the 'truth' was, mainly because she hadn't a clue.

He listened to her rambling patiently, nodding along at just the right moments, though Holly could tell that he was actually listening. Once she finally stopped, he said in a contemplative tone, "An odd case indeed. We will find answers for your questions; you have many, no doubt—" he didn't even have to see her nod to affirm his suspicions "—but for now, we must find Luke."

She nodded, following him as he veered off to the right. She would get answers, return to the cantina, and live a happy life, until she got a TARDIS and found her way home.

That was the plan, at least.

She wasn't exactly surprised when things didn't go "according to plan."

42.

So, stay tuned for the next chap, in which we'll see more discussions with Obi-Wan (seeing as this one wasn't too enlightening), among other things. The story will really begin to take action then.

See you in the next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Hello! So, this was a fun chapter to write; it ended drastically differently the first time around, but I altered it to (hopefully) fit better with the rest of the story. I'm glad that the chapters aren't too long (thanks to Enigmacy and MilieMichikoHedwidge2004 for giving me some feedback), and thank you to Himeno Kazehito for your review as well!

Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any rights to the Star Wars universe. Anything you recognize was made by someone else, and I'm not trying to steal their work.

42.

"All right," Luke said despairingly. "I'll take it."

Luke had been arguing with the salesmen for at least ten minutes, the speeder parked beside them being the subject of the conversation. The term 'man' was operative, however; the alien to whom Luke spoke towered over them, but not because of his great height. Actually, he was rather short. No, it was because he hovered in midair, wings beating so fast they were a blur. The rest of him was absolutely hideous; he had sagging leather skin and a nose like an aardvark that was accompanied by a rasping, haggard voice. He spoke with Luke in harsh tones, ones that Holly couldn't understand, liberty of the fact that they were speaking another language.

Coins exchanged hands; Luke pocketed them before snatching a weird jacket-poncho-cape thing from his former speeder, the three of them following as Luke stormed away. "Look at this," he grumbled, turning to Obi-Wan. "Ever since the XP-38 came out, they just aren't in demand."

"I think it looks bloody awesome," Holly said wistfully as she gazed at the speeder, wishing she could have seen it in action. Or, better yet, wishing she could have ridden in it; wouldn't that be fun? The first human to ride in a car that floated a foot above the ground….

"It'll be enough," Obi-Wan said in a low tone. It was odd; Holly thought that she would have a difficult time acclimating to calling him 'Obi-Wan', but it was rather easy, actually. The name 'Ben' had never really suited him, anyway.

They exited the store. It was more like a garage than a proper building, but the walls and ceiling were enough to block out some of the light. At least, enough to stop the need to squint. The three of them passed by a few aliens, one of them brushing against Holly's shoulder by accident.

Holly instinctively flinched away, intending to give the alien wide berth; all she accomplished was bumping right into Luke, who raised a hand to steady her. "Sorry," she mumbled, eyes downcast. Holly could not help how she gravitated towards Luke, afraid of unintentionally crossing paths with another alien. Usually, Holly would have been embarrassed by the proximity, but she was too busy staring wide-eyed at anything that caught her attention, and if Luke even noticed, he didn't mention it.

They rounded a corner and nearly bumped into two droids. Namely, R2 and 3PO.

The sight of them caused a smile to spread across her face.

Holly skipped—literally, she had such a spring to her step—towards them. "Hello, R2, my old friend," she said, addressing the shorter of the two. He beeped. "I've come to talk with you again." She then turned to 3PO. "Sorry. Simon and Garfunkel. Good stuff. Anyway….hi!"

Luke turned to her. "What's a Garfunkel?" he questioned, a slightly disgusted look plastered onto his face. "Sounds like a….fungus. Or disease."

Holly whistled. "God, you can be insulting," she chuckled. "No, actually; he's just a guy from back home." Luke had the grace to look apologetic.

"What has he to do with any of this?"

"Eh….well, not much, really—you wouldn't really understand it," she said. Holly wasn't really in the mood to explain why she could never come up with anything original to say, so she fended off the question. She turned to 3PO. "So, what all happened? After I left, I mean."

3PO spoke up. "It was quite an adventure, really," he began, "not that everything else hadn't been just that. I'd rather like for everything to calm down a bit….but given our current circumstances, that does not seem likely…."

Holly was beginning to think that worry is to 3PO as depression is to Marvin the Maniacally Depressed Robot.

"I must say that you missed rather a lot, Captain," 3PO continued. Holly shot a panicked look to Obi-Wan, who pointedly ignored her; she hoped that Luke was unaware of it. "R2 had apparently—well, R2 is always getting himself into trouble, I'm sure you know, so this will come as no surprise—R2 had transported a—"

"3PO," interjected Luke quickly. "I'm not entirely sure how much of that story should be told…." He shot an apologetic look to Holly. She glanced at him and shrugged nonchalantly, not really minding; it was their business, after all. But….there was a nagging feeling, in the back of her mind, pestering her, asking question after question about their 'adventure.' She forced herself into silence.

Obi-Wan turned, eyeing the blond. "Young Luke, it is good that you do not betray secrets easily, but there are times in which secrets must be told," he said sagely. "Holly here is with Han and the Wookiee; she'll have to learn eventually what we're doing."

It was not Luke who argued. Rather, Holly objected: "Err….sir, you don't need to tell me anything….I was just curious….but I don't mean to pry. And, it's not like I'm going with Solo and Chewie," she finished.

"A wise decision, miss," approved 3PO.

"I mean, sir, you really don't need to tell me where you're going. I don't need to know. I'm not going to be on the ship with you; I've got to get a job here—I've got to get home…." Holly knew that her argument was a weak one, but she was not particularly known for proving a point well.

Obi-Wan chuckled, though it was brief, as if ironically; neither he nor Holly missed the dark look that swept across Luke's face. Holly wondered what exactly had happened to….she didn't know….trigger some memory? She knew that, normally, people didn't switch from just-a-regular-dude expression to just-a-regular-dude-who-saw-his-dog-get-hit-by-a-car.

She found herself thinking dumbly, _was it something that I said?_

Just then, she felt a wave of something hit her—it was as if she were standing before an air vent, pelting air at her relentlessly. It was almost tangible, bringing with it an ocean of dark, depressing sadness. It was not one of her emotions; one, why would she feel so suddenly sad? And two, when she experienced such a strong feeling, it always came from her heart or her gut (just somewhere in the torso region). This, however, was all around her, coming to her from the outside.

She stood, completely shocked, halting in her step. Neither seemed to notice her lack of movement; it seemed that they had not felt it as well. Unless….was this a regular occurrence? Did they dismiss it as just another experience?

Holly honestly didn't know which would be better, it being general or just special to her. Either way, she would have a lot of adjusting to do.

"What is there for you?" Obi-Wan asked. Holly did not hear any scheming in his voice, but she knew that this was just the type of weaseling that people did in order to get someone else to do what they want. Ask questions that had them second-guessing themselves, trying to be innocent in asking them, as if they were honestly just curious.

Unless she was just being paranoid?

Even if that's not what he was trying to do, the old man certainly succeeded in making her second-guess herself.

Mind still spinning in circles, Holly answered, "I was going to get a job at the cantina. Hopefully….Solo said that he'd help me get a job. I think that's his way of returning a favor—I had to help him remain unnoticed for a while. He said he'd put in a good word for me to the bartender."

Obi-Wan eyed her in an odd expression, one which asked her, _do you really believe that?_ Luke turned to face her as well, sad expression slightly diminished. Before he replied, Holly thought to herself….if she had just felt immensely sad, but the source was not herself, and Luke, right next to her, was downright Marvin about something that she accidentally mentioned (whatever that happened to be; she thought it would be a bit too much an invasion of privacy to ask what it was about) so….that must have been what he felt. Did that mean….

Did that mean that what she felt was…empathy?

Maybe she really was Deanna Troi.

Oh, what was she thinking? Of course she wasn't. What an idiotic notion.

"You know," Luke began, "that's weird. Of all people, I'd have thought that Han would know that the Mos Eisley Cantina isn't hiring. It never does." He looked at her with an odd expression, as if he were trying to make sense of a charitable Ferengi (which would be just as unlikely as logical Holly, actually). "He told you that they would hire you?"

"No," she said, grimacing. "Not exactly….he said that he'd _try_ to get me a job there." She added as an afterthought, "But it wasn't until he had dragged me there that he told me that he had no idea if they even hired."

"We can discuss this later," Obi-Wan said. Holly didn't really like the fact that he implied a 'later' opportunity to speak, but she didn't have any time to argue as he continued, "If the ship's as fast as he's boasting, we ought to do well." They turned another corner, coming up to a doorway, near which Chewie stood, as if guarding it.

Chewie growled good-naturedly as they approached. He held out his hand to Holly, as if she had offered him something. She knew what he wanted, but….

"Miss, I believe he is asking for your droid," 3PO stated obviously.

"Yeah, I figured," Holly agreed. Chewie was such a big baby; it reminded her of a four-year-old asking for his favorite toy. She was about to resist handing over her 'Lock Pick" (she still preferred her name for him, Xenon) but she had to acquiesced after a moment of consideration, extracting Xenon from her pocket and letting him reactivate before handing him over to Chewie. Part of the reason that she conceded had been because of the friendship she sensed forming in between Chewie and Xenon; there was no real reason for depriving them of that. She'd allow them some time before Chewie left and she'd have to take Xenon back. But another, a larger part of her was jealous, even if only teasingly so: she hung her head slightly and twisted her mouth into a pouting frown.

Luke, beside her, chuckled at her expense.

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled playfully, throwing him a fake glare. He smirked at her.

Chewie led them into a larger area, what she assumed to be a docking bay. She was about to begin looking around until the centerpiece of the room, the main attraction, caught her eye in a captivating trance.

It was a spaceship. The _Millennium Falcon_ was a real, honest to God spaceship. Now, it had been one thing to see computer animated space ships on television, but it was an entirely different thing to see one _right in front of you_.

It was huge; that was Holly's first thought. Steel plating a pale grey, it was covered in dust and grime; the rather unappealing outward appearance was not, however, anything that took away from its sheer awesome nature. Holly had grown up around space-faring fantasies, so she knew roughly what was what; it was obvious that it was standing on landing gear, and anybody could tell that the thing on its side was a cockpit. Han stood underneath it, performing maintenance of some sort. Holly also identified the vents, exhaust ports, and a few of the weapons; it was not complex, as spaceships go, but it was a _spaceship._

Looking at the _Millennium Falcon_ set it in stone: when Holly got back to Earth, she would marathon all of the movies. This ship was just so _amazing._

"What a piece of junk!" exclaimed Luke next to her. Like she had thought before, Luke _could_ be offensive.

Holly quickly objected. "How can you say that? That is _so fantastic_!" her eyes went from him to the spaceship, taking in his disappointed face. He looked, if Holly did say so herself, _thoroughly dissatisfied._

Holly didn't seem to be the only one who disagreed. Solo turned to them, an incredulous look on his face. "She'll make point five past light speed," he began, striding towards them. "It may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, Kid. I made a lot of special modifications myself," he brought his hand to his chest as if in congratulations. "But, we're a little rushed, so if you'll just get on board, we'll get out of here." He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder and ushered them into the ship.

Holly stood back slightly, head still tilted upward as she inspected the science-fiction-turned-weird-reality vehicle. _Point five past light speed?_ That was a physical impossibility; no matter can travel at the speed of light, much less exceed it, unless it—quite literally—possesses warp capability. Of course, this is all merely hypothetical; the most renown theoretical physicists could only speculate (and of course, Holly kept herself well informed), but it would only be possible far in the future. Theoretically.

But if something did exceed the speed of light, it would transcend time and space, and the correlation between them. "Are you saying that you have a time machine?" she asked incredulously.

Solo turned to her, tilting his head to the side. "Of course not. Why—what gave you that idea?"

"Well, you did just say that it went faster than light speed—and, taking into account Einstein's special relativity, that means you've—"

"Okay, kiddo, sorry, but we've got to go," Solo interjected, pointing towards the ramp leading into the ship. "Get onboard quickly."

Holly backed away, not really thinking. Even if she had thought, she probably would have done the same thing. "I'm sorry," she said hurriedly. "But I'm not going."

"What?" Solo asked. "What else are you going to do? You wouldn't last one day at the cantina, if they'll even hire you—"

Their ears were greeted with the sound of many running feet. "Stop that ship!" came a voice, sounding as though it were being transmitted through a radio. "Blast them!" Both Han Solo and Holly turned to the entrance quickly, where there stood about ten white-armored men, holding the familiar black weapons.

It was not long until they fired. Actually, it was less than a second, red bolts of energy being shot towards them with impeccably bad aim. Simultaneously, Holly saw Solo pull his own gun out of his holster, aiming with one hand and firing.

"Get in the ship, Holly, go!" he shouted, shoving her roughly.

Holly may have been foolish at times, but she wasn't _that_ stupid; she knew that it was wiser to get into the _Falcon_ than to stand here and be shot to death. She rushed into the ship, her feet taking her along quicker than they ever had before.

She leapt into the _Millennium Falcon,_ Solo following close behind her. The sound of blasts could still be heard as the men shot at the ship, maybe actually hitting something for once.

Solo smashed a panel on the side of the ramp, closing it and the door above it. He quickly rushed past, shouting as he went, "Chewie, get us _out of here!_ "

Holly followed him, glancing fleetingly at the walls as she went. It was not a clean ship; there was no smooth plating on the interior to give it an official, pristine look. But then again, there wasn't anything about the _Millennium Falcon_ that could be perceived as pristine, anyway. One could easily see the conduits and piping, though it did not appear to hang dangerously or present any hazard at all.

Luke, Obi-Wan, 3PO, and R2 had rushed down the hall to large room, housing a table, with a wide bench circling one side. The four of them were gathered around it, and Holly arrived just in time to see Obi-Wan scrambling to seat himself. Holly ran into the other side of the table, facing them, breathing hard as her heart rapidly beat inside her chest.

"I'd forgotten how much I hate space travel," 3PO commented, and Holly would have wondered exactly how much experience he had with it if her mind had not been somewhere else entirely.

"You—Obi-Wan, you knew this would happen," she gasped, catching her breath. Those corridors had been lengthy….and, she was quite out of shape. "You knew I'd have to come." She could see by his knowing smirk, telling her that she can't simply not do what he needed her to do.

"I cannot say that it is surprising," he agreed wryly, but he did not get the chance to go on; the entire ship lurched to the side, each and every one of them thrown along with it. For Obi-Wan, Luke, and the droids, thus lurch was not too trying; they were all huddled around the table, seated. Holly, however, was leaning _on_ the table, nothing but her arms to stop her from tumbling to the ground. She lost her grip on the side, being tossed violently into R2-D2, who beeped loudly.

"Sorry, R2…." She gasped as the ship continued to shake roughly. She heard Solo's voice drifting through the other corridor as he spoke to Chewie, and Holly scrambled up to rush towards it. She dropped her bag into the table as she went, and what she didn't see was that, instead of simply staying where she tossed it, the shaking of the ship caused it to drift towards Luke, the contents being dumped all over him.

By that time, she was halfway down the corridor. She didn't hear him calling after her.

"….angle the deflector shields while I make the calculations for the jump to lightspeed," Solo commanded Chewie, who turned to comply. Holly rushed into the cockpit, where Chewie and Han Solo were seated, jamming away onto the controls with great urgency.

Kneeling beside Chewie, Holly gazed beyond the glass of the cockpit with a completely awe-struck expression. "Woah," she said, as her eyes took in the vast expanse of stars and empty space around them. "This is _not_ possible," she muttered, referring to the lack of any nebulas, star clusters, or anything that definitively made the Galaxy _the Galaxy,_ just scattered white dots. She assumed that they were stars. She should be seeing much more color, more variety….but she shouldn't actually be seeing any of this at all. "It's not possible, but certainly amazing," she laughed.

"You're certainly in for a rough ride if you've never been hyperspace before," Solo stated.

"Hyperspace? Hell, I've never been in regular space before, let alone _hyperspace…._ " Was she _actually, seriously_ saying those words?

"You are….certainly something." Holly was about to reply with something along the lines of "perfectly sound observation, but I was hoping you'd go deeper," but she didn't have the chance to.

Luke and Obi-Wan came barreling through the corridor, nearly running into her as they all crowded into the cockpit. As it was, Holly found herself smashed into Chewie's chair uncomfortably. "Stay sharp!" Solo barked at Chewie. "There are two more coming in; they're gonna try and cut us off."

Holly's eyes grew wide, trying to catch a look at whatever was chasing them. Was it another ship? Would she see them when they cut them off? If so, she hoped that she never got to see it.

"Why don't you outrun them?" asked Luke urgently. "I thought you said this thing was fast!"

"Watch your mouth, Kid, or you're gonna find yourself floating home," Solo snapped. Holly sent a sidelong glance at Luke, not particularly blaming Solo for his retort. She hadn't really known Luke for long, but she was surprised by his frankly insulting comments. Maybe he hated Solo too? "We'll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace."

Oh, this was right out of science fiction.

Duh.

"Besides," Solo continued. "I know a few maneuvers; we'll lose them," he stated confidently. There was the good old' Han Solo arrogance again.

She really hoped that he actually had something to back it up this time.

"You'd better," Holly grumbled. "I'd better not have been saved back there just to die now."

The ship was hit again. "This is where the fun begins," Solo said, smirking. Fun? _Fun?_

Well, Holly had to admit, it was really cool, really exciting, and _really_ scary at the same time. Oh, please don't let me die now; I've only just gotten into space….please….

"How long before you can make the jump to light speed?" Obi-Wan asked behind her.

"It'll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navi-computer," Solo answered, leaning back and fiddling with a screen on one of the panels behind him. Please hurry up….

"Are you kidding?" shouted Luke. "At the rate they're gaining—" How exactly does he know the rate? All she saw on the gauges were unfamiliar glowing symbols and nobs that would put the TARDIS console to shame. But, then again, she couldn't read the numbers above her room at the Dreary Dug.

"Traveling through hyperspace isn't like dusting crops, boy!" Solo countered harshly. "Without precise calculations, we could fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova and that'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?"

Luke gulped. Holly was sure that she did, too.

Holly may not be an expert in Star Wars technology, but she knew a warning sign when she saw one. Right in front of her was a blaring red light, even more eye-catching than Freddie Mercury's performing getup, and it was no mystery what it meant. Something was wrong. But what?

"What's that flashing?" Luke pointed at the light and asked the question for her, albeit less eloquently than she would have liked (though she knew, deep inside, that she wouldn't have done much different).

Solo slapped his hand away. "We're losing our deflector shields. Go strap yourself in; I'm going to make the jump to light speed."

42.

"Okay, so, back on Tatooine," Holly jabbed her thumb behind her shoulder, even though she had no idea whether the desert planet was in that direction or not, "you said that you'd tell me what this is all about. I mean, it wasn't really important that I knew then, but now that I'm here…."

They had 'strapped themselves in' as Solo had commanded, but there hadn't been much need; the bumpiest part of the ride had been the liftoff. It was not disappointing; exhilarating to the last, it wasn't quite what Holly had expected when she dreamed of her first time in space—she did plan on going to space: she wanted to be an astronaut, after all—but it had far exceeded her expectations. Mainly, because she wasn't in a cramped shuttle, and it happened far sooner than she would have thought.

It would have been nice to have zero gravity, but Holly knew that she couldn't have everything.

Holly was seated on a stool near the table, around which she, Chewie, 3PO, and R2 were huddled. Solo hadn't come back from the cockpit yet, which was understandable; he had told them that he would set autopilot after about half an hour, but he wanted to make sure everything would go smoothly before he left it for the computer to navigate. Chewie had started up a game of chess—that's what it closely resembled, at least; there were holographic monsters instead of regular pieces, but the general goal was the same. Holly wasn't really playing, but occasionally, she would give Chewie pointers on which moves would be the wisest.

The way the monsters threw each other around reminded her of Wizard Chess from Harry Potter. She smiled at that.

Xenon crawled up her arm, watching the game with interest. He had finally crawled down from the Wookiee to see her—about time. "I mean," she continued, "I know that you're going to the Alderaan System or something, but I'm about as familiar with that as Captain Kirk is to platonic relationships, so I have no idea what that is."

"You've never heard of Alderaan?" Luke seemed surprised.

"No. I'd never even heard of Tatooine before Solo told me what it was."

She saw Obi-Wan giving her an odd look. "From where did you hail, then, Holly?" he asked.

The old man had a habit of knowing what was truth and what was lies, so she couldn't just say "Betazed" like before. But…she had told Luke that some people called Earth "Betazed", so she wouldn't make Luke even more suspicious of her than he probably already was. And, even if she did answer with the fake planet's name, every mention of it was filmed on earth, so she wouldn't technically be _lying_ ….

But finding excuses was worse.

Holly hated herself at that moment. "I'm from Earth," she said honestly.

"And where's that?" Luke asked. He was sort of hovering, not staying anywhere in particular for long. He seemed anxious.

"It's in this place called the Milky Way Galaxy."

Luke lowered his gaze to the floor and pursed his lips in concentration. "That doesn't exactly tell me much, since I've _never_ heard of it in my life."

Holly grumbled, "I know." She was silent for a moment. "But….I honestly have no idea, other than that. It's in one of the galaxy's arms. Orbits the sun. Next to Mars and Venus. Surrounded by the Oort Cloud. But I'm guessing that doesn't clear much up, either."

"Not exactly," he agreed. "How'd you get to Tatooine, then, if you've never heard of it?"

Holly was at a loss. Obi-Wan listened intently, obviously watching their interaction, no doubt learning all he could about how she had gotten here; he hadn't exactly kept it hidden that he wanted to know why she was there, and why she was hiding how she had gotten there. Despite the fact that she hadn't told him anything, he wasn't angry at her for it—quite contrarily, he seemed to think that hospitality would make her talk.

Yeah, she supposed, it worked, a bit, but she also had no idea what to tell him. She would have poured her mind out were Luke not there—what would he think of her, if he found out that she had been lying all along? If he found out that his Uncle was right? Would he think that she's a thief, like Owen had?

Oh, why did she care? It would have been much easier to be Phil Collins: _Don't Care Anymore_.

Life didn't like that idea, it seemed. Holly set her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples with fervor. But to add to that….what would 3PO think? She'd met him first, and that was when she had though that it would be a good idea to lie about her entire life….what would he think of her when he finds out that everything they'd spoken of was a fallacy? She couldn't really think of any time that 3PO had been disappointed, even with R2, but she didn't want to see it, either. She could only imagine that it would be the worst type of gut-wrenching guilt that would settle in her conscience. _Obi-Wan, what am I going to do?_

 _Tell us the truth._

Holly's head popped up quicker than a supernova implosion and she turned to Obi-Wan. Had he just spoken? She'd asked him something silently, wishing to speak to him in private, but knowing that she wouldn't get the chance; her head had seemed the next best bet. But….had he heard her?

No. He couldn't have. It didn't matter how intently he was eyeing her now; he had not heard her. She hadn't gotten enough sleep in the past few days; she was getting tired. That's what happened.

Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn't be telepathic. That's just absurd.

Holly said nothing for a few moments, head hanging low. She had no idea what she was supposed to say—who had ever been in this situation before? She certainly hadn't, and Holly didn't know anyone who had. Maybe a spy or some secret agent would have words of wisdom for her, but she knew no Mother Mary to ask, and she was sure that "let it be" would not be the suggested word choice.

"You said…didn't you say that you'd crashed?" Luke looked at her with confusion spelled out in his bright blue eyes, waiting for a response. _Any_ response.

"Yes." Holly had to agree with that. It was, indeed, what she had said; she wasn't lying. Yet. "Yes, I did," she affirmed, trying to get herself to look up at them, to see their probably disbelieving faces, but she couldn't do it. Her mind, reluctant to see their disappointed stares and wary of the guilt she would undoubtedly feel regardless, did not allow her physical body any say in it whatsoever. Her gaze still on the floor, she replied, "I did say I crashed, that is."

"Then…." Luke paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes in thought and averting his gaze as he considered what to say next. "How did you get there?" The inquisitive, naïve way in which he tilted his head struck her as oddly cute.

What? What was that? Holly definitely hadn't gotten enough sleep; she was becoming delusional.

"I don't know," she said, the words fleeing her mouth faster than the battery life fleeing her computer; she could not stop them. She could not lie, which was probably the best thing, in her situation. But the same force that kept her from continuing; there was nothing more she could say in explanation, nothing more that she could do.

 _I'm so sorry,_ she promised herself silently, the words being rammed against her head belligerently, threatening to escape her mouth. _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…. I will tell you, I promise I will. Later._

 _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry….I should have told you, I know I should have, but I just can't….not yet._

Ugh. Who was Holly even talking to, anyway? She had a rambling problem that she needed to fix.

Right after that little honestly issue.

"But, how—what do you mean? Does that mean you're _not_ a captain? What about your ship?" he looked from Holly to Obi-Wan, hoping that _one_ of them would have an answer. Why would he think that Obi-Wan knew anything? Was his weird telepathy a commonly known thing?

Oh, shut up, Holly. He's not telepathic. That's preposterous.

"It is true, young Holly," Obi-Wan addressed, "that I cannot aid your situation and we cannot bring enlightenment to your mind unless we fully know where everyone stands, and how they got there."

She sent a pleading look to Obi-Wan, hoping that he would understand; she would tell him. Holly would tell him everything. Just….not now. "I'm really sorry, but I need to get everything sorted out in my head, first, before I relay the story," she excused, not being entirely untruthful. They might not think her completely mad once she tells her tale if she has at least a reason for being here, which she does not currently have. Or, maybe, she'll be home before that time comes, and it won't matter.

42.

"So, I'm here and we're somewhere. Deep space. What are we doing?" she asked. "I would like to know, you know, where we're going, since I kind of got dragged along."

The three of them had dropped the discussion of her origins after she had lapsed into a lengthy silence, adamant that she would not tell them anything unless she knew more about what had happened herself. She was being completely unreasonable, because she must have known that she had no hope of finding any answers just by churning everything over in her brain, but she had not been the most reasonable of late anyway. Holly was also being unfair, asking about the other men's business when she was still reluctant to relay her own, but in her defense, she did have to know where she was going, and they didn't have to know how she had gotten there.

"Indeed," said Obi-Wan. He had taken to stroking his beard once more, and Holly smirked inwardly as she realized that this was her Dumbledore, her Gandalf, her Merlin. Her Captain Pike. Well, technically, she shared him with Luke, but she was in this adventure too. "Luke, play her the message from the Princess."

Princess? There was a princess's message? Royalty? Wow.

Then, Holly realized who they meant; they meant Leia. It was Star Wars, so of course they'd have her. Princess Leia. The main guy's sister. That was right, wasn't it? Holly decided not to mention it, in case she was wrong. She probably was; if they were siblings, they'd have been here together, right? This probably wasn't the same Luke. But, just to be sure…. "Hey, Luke, what's your last name?"

Luke was crouched in front of R2, twisting nobs to try and play the message from Leia. He looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm Luke Skywalker. What's your full name?"

"O'Reilly. Holly O'Reilly." So….that's what it was! Skywalker! She remembered now that he mentioned it; Holly had known that it was something-walker. Although, this meant that he was, indeed, _the_ Luke Skywalker that Holly knew next to nothing about. Was it safer that this was the main character? The main guy hardly ever dies, but writers do tend to kill off other characters; if this was the main storyline, she'd more likely die.

Comforting thought. Wasn't there something about characters losing hands or something? She was sure Clare had mentioned it at some point. Holly grimaced at the possibilities.

"What's wrong?" questioned Luke.

"Hmm?" Holly asked, not really sure what this was about. She began to hum David Bowie's _Starman_ , not fully understanding why but knowing that something about his last name brought the tune into her head.

"You had this weird look on your face, like—" Luke was cut off, and her gaze was drawn from his blue eyes to another blue light, this one focused in midair, as if it were a hologram. A low-resolution hologram, but a hologram nonetheless.

The blue and white droid was projecting the image of a woman. She stood, thin and robed with what Holly would only assume was white. Her posture suggested regality—certainly much better than Holly's own. The woman spoke, a pretty voice being transmitted through the droid.

"General Kenobi," Leia began. "Years ago, you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now, he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the survival of the rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit; my father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

Her voice became desperate as she concluded the message. Holly stared after the holographic woman; at least, where she had once been. The message shut off, and Holly was only left staring in wonder.

"That was….that was the Princess?" Holly spoke, even as she mulled over the message. Her ship was being attacked….by whom? The Empire? Against which she was holding a rebellion? This all seemed so….surreal.

"That was Princess Leia," Obi-Wan affirmed.

"And….now….you're going to Alderaan?"

They both nodded. "But….what about her?" Holly questioned. "Shouldn't you rescue the princess? Her ship was being attacked."

"She said that R2 has information about the rebellion for her father," Luke replied. "Her father should be able to….I dunno, get a fleet out to get her? They'd be a bit better than three nobodies from Tatooine." Holly nodded slowly, though she knew that, if this woman was to be believed, Obi-Wan wasn't just some 'nobody'.

So, the woman was just going to be left on the ship….to be attacked?It probably already happened. For all anybody knew, Princess Leia could be dead. But….Holly found that unlikely. She thought Clare would have mentioned it if one of her favorite characters had died. Maybe she had and Holly just didn't remember it, but it didn't seem to ring any particular bells.

"Obi-Wan isn't nobody," Holly said, laughing slightly at the suggestion. "She just said that he was a general. In the Clone Wars, whenever they were. If she was looking for him, I don't think that makes him a 'nobody,'" she pointed out.

"The Clone Wars took place nearly twenty years ago," Obi-Wan inclined his head to her. "Luke has a valid reason for his argument; it is possible I have lost all of my abilities, becoming just as much of a nobody as anyone else."

"Your ability?" To do what? "Ability to be a general?"

"My ability to do anything," he replied. "I'm an old man, unfit for adventuring. She must know that."

"And what of the Empire?" Holly questioned Obi-Wan. "There was….she said there was a rebellion. Are you guys part of it?"

"No," Luke said. "I'd never planned on coming here, even after I met Ben. I was just going to stay on that horrid rock….like I'd said to 3PO, if there's a bright center to the universe, you were on the planet that it's farthest from. I was just waiting to get out of there, but it didn't seem too bright a prospect."

"Well, what changed your mind?"

The boy's expression darkened. "This R2 unit ran off, so I went to look for him. Found him in the Jundland waste—" Holly didn't even bother to ask what the "Jundland Waste" was "—and there were a bunch of Tusken Raiders. You know, Sand People? Attacked me with their spears….and here comes Old Ben Kenobi, just like some old wizard, and he shoos them away with what he calls 'the Force.' We found R2 and that's when we both saw the message. Ben, he tried to get me to come with him—he needed to get to Alderaan. But I needed to get home! I told him that I still had to help out Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, but—but when I got back home, they were there….the Stormtroopers, they'd come by….they burnt everything! The entire house, Aunt and Uncle….they'd killed them both…."

Luke's brows were scrunched, but his eyes were not teary; a mix of anger and sadness filled his gaze. Holly could have sworn she felt it as well, felt it as a part of her, but from somewhere else. Like the empathy thing again. Holly gulped. Of all things, hearing that his Aunt and Uncle had been murdered was the last that she expected. She hadn't expected it at all.

"I'm sorry," she said. Luke only nodded his head once, turning back to R2. It seemed that he was choosing just to ignore it rather than cry or go on a murder spree, like Holly would have.

She preferred that he didn't kill everyone in the vicinity.

Still, it was a terrible thing. His family had _died_? Considering how his uncle had treated her, she shouldn't be as sad as she was, but Holly understood completely why he sent her away. He hadn't trusted her. She didn't trust him, either, though, which is why she lied in the first place; she couldn't blame him.

"I'm really sorry."

"Yeah," he said lowly.

"Um. Okay." Well.

Awkward.

Holly had never personally known anyone whose parents—or parental figures, at least—had dies, like Luke's had. It was safe to say that she was woefully unprepared for something of this nature: what was she supposed to do? Did she just shut up about it, or say something? If she was supposed to talk, what about? Does she get his mind off of the recent death of his aunt and uncle, or is that what they should have spoken of?

Holly didn't have to speak, because Chewie did so for her. His roar brought every head his way, droid and human alike.

"What did he just say?" Holly asked. She couldn't speak his language, and unlike previous comments he made, she had no idea what he could have meant.

"Well, how rude," admonished 3PO. He had turned to Chewbacca, and Holly got the impression that he was affronted. He said to Holly, "I apologize, miss, but I don't think that Chewie admires your tact. Or, rather, the lack thereof."

Holly stood, Xenon in hand. He had been silent for the entire exchange, merely listening. She clapped a hand on Chewie's shoulder, allowing Xenon to craw off of her hand and onto the Wookiee. "You know what, Chewie?" she asked, imitating a threatening tone, then losing it just as quickly. "I don't either." She turned and strode down the corridor, heading towards the cockpit.

Holly only wished to escape the uncomfortable, awkward atmosphere surrounding Obi-Wan and Luke—it was so tense that she was certain it could halt gamma rays.

42.

So! What did you think? Holly's finally off of Tatooine, and she's with the whole gang! But there is still the matter of those lies...among other things.

Please tell me what you thought of it! I love your feedback, and thank you to those who have followed/favorited/reviewed already!


	9. Chapter 9

Hi! I'm really, _really_ sorry about the unacceptably lengthy wait between chapters eight and nine. I don't know what came into me; first, I broke my computer (actually, it's no fault of my ow, but there's no-one else to take the blame for it.) This chapter was a bit rushed on my part, and I'm not too confident about it, so I may come back and change a few things around later (but not too soon).

Anyway, thanks to the following for their reviews:

Himeno Kazehito: You'll find out...eventually. It'll be ridiculous, but for a reason.

whoperhero: Obi-Wan's definitely onto something, but not even he knows what it is yet.

Guest: Thank you! I do try to be a bit different.

Onesmartcookie78: Thanks for letting me know! I'll change it soon, when I get around to editing the earlier chapters. I probably wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't pointed it out.

Time Lady Tinkerbell: Good luck with your new house. I must note that, although Holly broke her glasses, I'm using hyperbole to exaggerate how annoying she finds it. She can get around without them, as I can without mine, just not as well. Though, the fact that they're broken will play a bigger role later. And thanks for the typo alert; I've assembled this as I got the time to, and it's late at night for me as it is, so I'll go back and fix all changes soon.

Disclaimer: I'd have more free time (and a better computer) if I were as rich as the Star Wars owners, which I don't.

42.

Han Solo was lounging in the pilot's chair, feet propped up on the side of the console, thankfully away from any buttons. He gazed lazily out of the glass, just watching as the stars flew past the _Falcon_ fluidly. They appeared simply as lines, beautifully lighting up the cockpit with bright light. Solo had his hands behind his neck, and to Holly, he looked as though he were sleeping.

She doubted that he actually was. Who could fall asleep with this view just outside the window?

She had never seen anything like it before. Even seeing other versions of hyperspace in films was nothing compared to the real thing; walking up to one of the chairs, she craned her neck to gaze directly above her.

It was completely dumbfounding. Never had Holly dreamed of actually traveling this fast, anywhere, at any point in her life. She had sort of just accepted that she was born too early to experience any of the wonders she witnessed in space fantasies. Now, if this was real, and wasn't just a really vivid, long (but not quite realistic) dream, she actually _had_ , before she even got her degree.

How exhilarating.

"Never been at lightspeed before, have you?"

Holly snapped her head to the side, looking at Solo oddly. He was still sitting in the same position, but he had turned his head to look sideways at her. "No," she said. "Never."

"And that's what you get for never leaving the planet before," he commented mockingly. Holly gave him an irritated look.

"Excuse me, Captain Cynical," she raised one eyebrow. "I bet I've been farther from that sandy wasteland in the last week than you'll ever be in your entire life."

"Oh, yeah?" he retorted, spinning in his chair to see her head-on. "Yeah, Miss 'I've been to another galaxy', how'd you get here, then?"

"Did you perhaps hear anything that I told them?" she pointed down the corridor, indicating the previously humiliating confession she had made to the five of them.

"Uh-huh, I heard enough," he affirmed, leaning forward. "And, I'll have you know: I don't believe a word of it."

"Okay," she said, spinning a chair around in turn and sitting next to him. "Fine. I won't argue. I'd be worried for your sanity if you _did_ believe my story. But, just to say: I don't believe your story either."

"What? My story? About what?"

"About this ship," she responded, waving a hand around her. "And its speed. Remember, back at the cantina: it made the Kesser Run in less than twelve parsecs."

"Kessel," he corrected. If Holly wasn't mistaken, he looked a little wary.

"Macht nichts," she said dismissively. The phrase confused him, but she didn't bother explaining it. "What really matters is whether or not the 'Kessel Run' is a length of time."

Solo tilted his head to the side. "It's not, it's a span of distance. Why would that matter?" he asked, slowly and defensively.

"Ah, you know well, Mr. Solo," she smirked. "Such a space erudite as yourself, you'd better know what a parsec is. I mean, I'm no rocket scientist, only an aspiring astrophysicist, but I know, at least, that a parsec isn't a measure of time. It's distance. So, basically what it boils down to is this: you made a distance of , for example, seven meters in less than thirty decimeters. Now, tell me how that makes sense?"

She didn't know where she got the courage to say all this, nor the comfortability. Usually, Holly wouldn't ramble on so much, especially to someone she had only met the day before. But this Solo was a special type of annoying; he required a special type of conversation.

Wait….has it really only been two days? She would have to check her phone, which was currently off and in her bag. She'd tossed it at the table last; Holly wondered idly what had become of it before Solo cut off her thoughts.

"It doesn't matter, kiddo. They've got money, I've got a ship they can use. It seems that everyone's happy but you," he sneered, not liking the way the conversation had turned.

"Okay," she said, backing away. "Okay, jeez. Just an observation."

"Well, you can take your observations and send them right out the air lock. I'm sure they'd come up somewhere around Mandalore."

"I'll pretend that I know what Mandalore is," Holly commented, turning back to gaze at the passing stars.

Solo grumbled. Something was praying on her mind. Holly knew that she had hated Han Solo ever since she had first met him. He had, after all, not made a very good first impression. She wondered if they'd ever get on better terms; will there be time to? In a few hours (actually, Holly had no idea how long this trip would last, but that had been her best bet), she, Luke, Obi-Wan, and the droids would be off adventuring. Or, at least, giving one droid to the holographic woman's father.

Holly hoped they'd still get to keep R2 after that. But, even the pondering suggested more than she could affirm—'they' implied that the three of them wound stick together. She couldn't even begin to question where she'd go or what would happen to her after they reach this Alderaan, but to be perfectly honest, she doubted she'd be seeing any more of Luke or Obi-Wan.

Unless, of course, Obi-Wan hasn't come up with answers. She'd hound him until the end of his days trying to get some insight on why she's here and how she got here and how she can get back home.

Maybe, the only thing she needs to do is wake up from this strange dream. Or, possibly, the solution would be found in clicking her heals together and saying, 'There's no place like home.'

"Hey, Solo," she said, just remembering something that Luke had mentioned, but which she forgot to ask about, changing the tone of the conversation. "What's the Force?"

Holly felt like she should know this. She felt that, if there was anything she knew about the Star Wars universe, it would be something as monumental sounding as 'the Force'. It had an epic ring to it; how can something be so cool-sounding and not a major plot line?

Maybe Clare had mentioned it, maybe not. Holly had no idea.

She hadn't listened to Clare.

"Not surprising you don't know what that is," said Solo beside her. "It's not too important, anyway. Just some phony religion. Where'd you hear of it?"

"Luke mentioned it," Holly said. "Said that Obi-Wan used it or something."

Solo scoffed. "That old man's delusional," he laughed, rotating his chair left to right idly. "The 'Force'—it's just this old legend. Something about blood—you're born with a certain type of blood or something….and it basically controls your whole life, that's what everything they say boils down to. Some destiny garbage."

"Huh." Holly looked blankly ahead of her before letting her head fall on her shoulder lazily, catching his face with the corner of her eye. "So you're telling me that it's an excuse."

"An excuse?"

"Yeah. Like, if Person A doesn't give Person B a treasure—like a ring he found in a river or something—and Person B wants it really badly, he can murder Person A, steal the ring, and use the Force as an excuse: The Force made him do it or something, so he can't be blamed." Shut. Up. Holly. She really, _desperately_ needed to learn when to shut up. Solo laughed. It was a real, genuine laugh; not the type he had given at someone else's expense.

"That's a really long example for "he told me to", but I suppose you could put it like that."

"Doesn't sound too believable."

"That's 'cause it's not," Solo agreed. "People still hold on to the mindset that some 'Jedi' or whatnot can save them."

"So, Jedi use the Force?"

"Well, allegedly, they _did,_ back twenty or so years ago—right around the Clone Wars, I think. There used to be a whole bunch o' them, until the Empire."

"And that's….what, exactly? I get that they're the people who shot at us back at Mos Eisley—" she used the name slowly, trying to make sure she got it right "—but what exactly do they stand for and such?" Solo turned to face her head on.

"Nothing you want to speak publicly about," he said. "Very dangerous—they control everything. And, I mean _everything._ Every star system, every planet, every moon—all under one ultra-power. Speak highly about them and your pretty little head will be blasted off before you can blink. The Emperor is slimier than Jabba the Hutt, and that's definitely saying something."

Holly gulped. That sounded like…that sounded like something that was _very_ monumental in Earth's history. "Are there any, you know, places that they suppress? Or types of people?"

"Anybody," Solo answered. "No one person in particular. Everybody who's not part of their military is underneath their looming boot, and even their troops are just puppets. They don't care who lives and who dies, who has liberty and who doesn't; they, or rather, he, the Emperor, only cares that the Empire has total control."

Holly was not liking the sound of this. "You know, Solo," she said, reaching a hand up to her face to push up her glasses out of habit, only to realize that she didn't have any anymore. She wondered what sights she'd be missing without them even as she continued. "Looks like the Nazis won." Space-Nazis...those conspiracies could be right!

"Nazis? Okay, you know what? Doesn't matter. I heard enough of what you said back there to know that I _won't_ understand anything you say."

"No, you probably won't," she nodded. "But, as you probably heard, there's all that stuff with the Rebellion—what exactly is that about?"

"The Rebellion?" Solo laughed his small, fake laugh again. "Oh, they're a worthless cause. Even they know that they're not going to amount to anything; the safest thing would be to just to lay back, stay inconspiquous. They've got their hearts in the right places—but that's all they've got. No resources, no mega army; they're gonna need a miracle to bring them any chance at a new hope."

"Yeah," she said. "I see what you mean."

He just sort of nodded absentmindedly. "Err, Holly," he began. At her quiet 'hmm?', he continued. "You know, just call me Han. Don't bother with Solo." Holly had never thought that she'd be on first-name basis with _this_ man, of all people. She had been raised around addressing others by their surnames, if it wasn't specified otherwise. "Sounds pretentious."

"Yeah," Holly agreed sarcastically, but she'd heed his wishes anyway. There wasn't really any point in not doing it. "Like you'd _never_ be pretentious, Han."

First names it was, then.

42.

Holly ran her hand against the cool metal of the _Millennium Falcon_ slowly as she passed through the corridor. Deliberately taking her time, she observed the walls closely. Being rushed before, she did not have time to appreciate the sheer fantastical element to the interior of the ship—it reminded her of something out of one of her dreams, in which she actually was captain of a starship and she actually did things, rather than the usual lying around and reading that had once been her entire life story.

Besides, she hadn't been physically capable of examining them closely without her glasses. Standing this close, she took notice of the connectors and wires, taking pride in her ability to detect the AC from the DC circuitry—her eleventh grade physics instructor would have been proud, not because it was a necessarily onerous task, but because people generally did _not_ remember a word he had spoken the minute they left the classroom.

Holly loved physics. She yearned, one day, to be amongst the best and brightest in the world, peering out through space and observing the nature of things through the eyes and understanding of said science. She wished desperately to understand exactly how everything worked—she had asked Han about it, but it seemed that they had different words for everything. That, or he honestly didn't know.

Holly wouldn't be particularly surprised if the latter proved to be correct.

Her fingertips flirted with the coils, keeping her touch light so as not to disrupt their function. _If they even did anything real,_ she thought to herself. There were just so many things that had to be done, how could one ensure that each and every component worked correctly? The by now familiar hum of the ship's engines resounded through the walls perpetually, guaranteeing some sort of reliability. Somewhat.

She ran the fingers of the other hand through her oily hair, a grimace making its way onto her face. She hadn't had a shower in….what was it, three days? Four? Must have; she didn't know what time it was now, but since their day had begun near noon, they mustn't have had long before nighttime, by Earth Standards. Holly supposed that they didn't really matter anymore, since she most definitely wasn't on Earth, but she still had to keep track of days somehow, and she knew that more than enough time had passed for her to be in need of a wash.

Holly soon came to the end of the corridor, entering the area with Luke, Obi-Wan, Chewie, and the droids. She wasn't quite sure what to call it, since she did not know whether or not it was the center of the ship, or what its usual purpose was, but she settled on simply 'the room', because she had, quite frankly, bigger problems than room names right now.

"Hello," said Obi-Wan cordially upon her entering. "It seems you are through speaking with Han Solo?"

"It seems," she agreed as she stepped further towards them. Obi-Wan stood near a seat, leaning against a wall panel, observing Luke before him. Holly's eyes were immediately drawn to the weapon in the young blonde's hand: much like Obi-Wan's, his lightsaber flooded its surroundings with bright blue light, reflecting in his eyes and making them even brighter. He stood in a defensive position, the saber held firmly before him, before he swung slowly, cautiously, as if he were testing a bat.

Despite the low speed of the weapon, Holly didn't want to get any closer to it. She skirted around the side to stand near Obi-Wan, who smiled at her in greeting; she could tell that he saw her mistrust of the lightsaber. "I do not believe either of us will harm you with our weapons," said he, "though it is wise to remain cautious."

"Yeah," Holly affirmed as she eyed the saber. "I've not had the best experience with highly dangerous, harnessed lasers that can cut through skin easier than a searing blade through gold, so I'll keep my distance. Actually, I've no experience with those, so I guess that's even worse."

Obi-Wan chuckled as Luke deactivated the lightsaber. "I hadn't either until Obi-Wan came, so I don't suppose anybody's surprised," the latter stated. Nice sense of humor, Holly thought dryly. What Luke didn't add was, _I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know anything, to be honest,_ but she knew he was thinking it—or at least, she thought he was.

"Are they that rare?" "Hardly any exist in this galaxy anymore," the sagely old man replied. "The Jedi built their own lightsabers, and many were destroyed along with their owners." His voice took a sorrowful tone, as if he were remembering a terrible death. By the sound of it, he was. "Very few are alive to speak of those times, and even fewer can build another."

"So each one was personalized?" Luke questioned curiously. "Or did they all follow some sort of blueprint?" Stealing the words right out of Holly's mouth.

"There was a general guideline, yes," Obi-Wan extracted his own lightsaber from his robes and turned it over in his hands, analyzing it closely. "But each had a slightly different design, marking it as its master's own, and his or hers only."

Holly peered over at the deactivated saber in Luke's hands. He was grazing it with his fingertips, and she watched as he traced along the ridges and segments of its design with interest. He was probably wondering, like her, who had built the one that he held, unless he already knew. It did seem like the type of thing Obi-Wan would tell him.

"And who built that one?" she asked.

"My father," Luke replied with a tone that she could only match with wonder.

His _father?_ As in, 'Luke, I am your father' father? As in _Darth Vader?_ If she knew anything for certain, it was that Luke Skywalker was the son of Darth Vader, the tall figure clad in black with a helmet on. And Luke currently held his _lightsaber,_ the thing he, Vader, had undoubtedly used to behead a lot of people. And he held it in his hands. Right in front of her.

Holly's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Your—your father?" she stuttered.

"Yeah," he replied, eyeing her oddly, slightly bewildered by her manner. "Obi-Wan said he used to be a Jedi. He trained him himself."

Obi-Wan Kenobi trained Darth Vader? _What?_ He was a _Jedi?_ Holly's brain swam in a lake of confusion. The Jedi were the good guys, weren't they? If they weren't, what had happened? Vader was the bad guy. She was sure of it. Did that mean that….these ones were the bad guys too? Luke and Obi-Wan? Were they with Vader? She had assumed that Luke hated his father. Who wouldn't, considering his dad was the bad guy in possibly the most famous movie series ever?

She really needed to talk to someone. She needed Clare. Holly knew of no-one else who was as versed in the language of this galaxy as Clare had been. Oh, why couldn't it have been her instead of Holly? Clare probably would have known what to do, what to say. She wouldn't have made up some stupid Star Trek lie, and she would have known how to avoid _this._ When she most needed her, Clare was gone. Or, rather, Holly herself was gone.

That thought, the thought of being completely separate from Earth, from everyone she knew and loved—it was that thought that drove her. She needed to get back. She had to find her way out of this crazy, worrisome world as quickly as she could.

"Your dad….he gave you his lightsaber?" Holly asked hesitantly. It seemed like a pretty useful weapon to her; why would the evil ruler of a galaxy just give it away to his son? Unless he had something better….that mere thought made Holly shudder.

"He left it for me," Luke corrected. "Ben actually gave it to me. Said that my Father wanted me to have it." He looked to the weapon still in appreciative wonder, as if it were actually all a dream. That's certainly what it felt like to Holly—the sort of dream that you have that makes absolutely no sense.

"Luke must learn the ways of the Force," Obi-Wan said, as if indirectly telling Luke instead of Holly. Something a parent would do. That what it felt like; she got the impression that Obi-Wan was a fatherly figure to the boy, more than Darth Vader was. Why hadn't Luke mentioned him by name, though? Did he think that Holly knew? Probably.

Holly raised an eyebrow. "The Force?" she cut a glance to Obi-Wan, now having nearly forgotten the fact that they both basically blurted out their affiliation with Darth Vader, genuinely intrigued with this strange practice. "A moment ago, Han and I were talking….but I didn't quite understand what he said about it." She actually did—at least, she thought she did—but Holly always had liked hearing both sides of an argument, even if only to refute the other side.

Obi-Wan eyed her, as if trying to assess what exactly she knew. He didn't know what Han told her, but Holly was sure that he could assume it wasn't what he thought. Obi-Wan definitely seemed to believe in this stuff, and he could tell that Holly didn't.

"The Force is….very hard to fully explain," he said at last. "For many, many years, Jedi have studied it, yet none have truly understood its impact on our world. No-one can know everything."

"That clears it up a lot," Holly said sarcastically. Sh chose to remain quiet about the 'Luke's father' internal issue for now. "So far, you've narrowed its synonyms down to life, the universe, and everything. So the Force if forty-two?"

Obi-Wan sighed in exasperation. "No," he denied. It seemed that the Guide to the Galaxy only applied to her _own_ galaxy, which she was apparently gone from—it was a concept that still unsettled her. "The Force _is_ , however, something that you must be patient with if I am to explain." Holly muttered her apology and crossed her arms, leaning back against the panel as she waited for him to continue.

"The force surrounds all people; every species, plant, animal, person….even single-celled organisms. It interlocks every living thing and sets the universe into an unequivocally harmonic cycle, setting paths for the users of the Force and all those surrounding them. Nobody can evade it, and nobody can defy it," Obi-Wan said.

A few things passed through Holly's brain at once, being a mix of, 'the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills' and 'the fundamental interconnectedness of all things.' She chose, however, not to voice those thoughts. Rather, she said: "So it's holistic?"

"In essence," Obi-Wan nodded. "Nothing happens in this universe without the integrity of the Force." "You mean it—wait," Luke cut himself off as his gaze found something in the corner, near the table at which the droids and Chewbacca were sitting. "Wait, Holly, what's that over there?"

She snapped her head around, eyes following the direction in which he was pointing. Whatever had caught his attention was out of her line of sight, and as she pushed off from the wall, she heard the rustling of something resembling pages.

Luke's proclamation caught the attention of 3PO, Chewbacca, and R2, who each turned their heads to see what he meant. Xenon sat upon Chewie's shoulders and merely crawled off onto the table to peer over the edge. Holly leaned over the table to the floor on the other side, finding something that she had nearly forgotten about.

Her bag lay open on the floor. The zipper had come loose, the contents within splayed across the floor in a messy pile. Holly forgot that she had all but tossed it onto the table when the _Falcon_ took off of Tatooine, but now she remembered how foolish that was. She had her phone in the bag; it was one of the only things that she had not cared much about back home that she could not bear to break or loose here; thusly, she had powered it off to conserve the battery.

The phone was screen-down on the floor, only a few inches from the bag. Everything else, however, including her books and binders, were in various states of disarray: they were either face-down, open to a random page, and often with creased pages. Her binder's sheets had scattered around the pile, and one upturned math textbook's pages were flicking back in forth. Holly felt a nearby vent send cool air to her arm; she turned her head to see that the ventilation shaft was, indeed the culprit.

"Oh….I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'd forgotten about this entirely." Holly began to gather the scattered loose leaf pages that had fallen from her binder. Now, she wished that she had spent more time to actually secure them in the rings, rather than just shove them anywhere in her haste to not actually do any work.

Luke knelt down beside her, gathering more stray papers. His eyes fell on her open math textbook, the pages of which were flapping in the vent's wind. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the way that he tilted his head, hair falling in in front of his brow as he looked upon the book with confusion.

"What kind of writing is that?" he asked in his usual pitch, the kind that wrung in her ears and reminded her of forced, rehearsed lines. Did he always sound like that, or was it a combination of the fact that these characters _never_ stuttered, and how he was practically yelling in her ear? Must just be a naturally loud voice. She hadn't noticed it before, though that could have been because he hadn't been breathing over her shoulder before.

He pointed to a simple parabolic function displayed in the 'review' section of the book. Holly felt one swift surge of panic; how was she going to explain this? She was just being skeptical, of course; what harm would come of her if they knew she read a different language? Han knew that already. Nothing major could happen, but that underlying knowledge still didn't hinder her sudden fear.

She snatched the book away from the son of Darth Vader, recoiling quickly when he leaned over to get a better look. "It's nothing," she said, snapping it shut. "Just the language of the universe." She was, for once, being entirely honest.

"What?" Luke's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You've got a universal language?"

"Obviously," she said, cradling the book to her chest. She probably wouldn't need it while she was here, but in the instance that she found her way back home, she couldn't go to school without her books. "It's something everything, every object in the universe, living or otherwise, must abide by."

"Really?" he asked, and his voice betrayed his skepticism. "So, that means I'd understand it? Obi-Wan would, too? And even….I don't know, the Hutts?"

"I've no idea who those last ones are, but any of you are complete and utter incompetent fools, yeah, you should know at least some."

"Speak it," he requested.

"Alright," she said. "'A' squared plus 'b' squared equals 'c' squared. 'F' of 'x' equals 'm' 'x' plus 'b'. Speed equals distance over time. Need I go on?"

"All you did was repeat simple equations!" he protested. "That's no universal language!"

"It most certainly is," said Obi-Wan. He must have been listening in.

"How?"

"It's math," Holly answered. "It's the language of everything in the universe. Honestly, did you even go to school?" Shaking her head, she sighed and turned back to the pile of books. She began to shove them haphazardly into the bag, not really caring anymore for how neat they were.

When at last she got to her phone, she didn't immediately throw it back in the bag. She held it in her hands for a moment, looking at its black screen, tempted to power it back on, even if only to check the time. To see the familiar light of the touch screen….to dial those seven numbers of her house phone, to speak to her mother and father again….Holly found herself greatly missing her parents. It sounded quite childish, but to be honest, Holly didn't care.

"Isn't that a data pad?" came Luke's voice beside her. She was still kneeling on the ground, and he had not gotten up; he merely stacked her books into a neat pile beside her bag.

"Of a sort." It technically was a data pad, but that wasn't its name. "It's something we use to, well, talk to people. Called a 'phone.'"

"Some traders came to Mos Espa once," he said, leaning against the wall panel, gazing idly at Xenon, who had crept closer to the young moisture farmer while Holly was entranced forlornly with her phone. "They had a whole crate of them—I remember being barely tall enough to look over the edge, but they were so new and expensive….the owners didn't exactly take kindly to a bunch of sandy kids snooping around their things." Luke smiled to himself at the fond memory. Holly thought that the smile suited him much more than his previously gloomy demeanor.

Holly was reluctant to reveal any details pertaining to her phone, however, as she flipped it over in her palm. After a moment, she conceded, not really seeing the harm in explaining just a bit of technology.

"This one wasn't too expensive," she indicated the worthlessness of it by tossing it onto her bag. It was purely sentimental now, until she could get back home. "Not where I'm from, at least."

"And where is that?" he asked. Holly sighed; she didn't know if she was ready to admit that she wasn't even part of this universe, if she ever would. She didn't know if her story was ready to be revealed. "Or are you still not going to tell us?"

Holly sent a slightly worried glance towards Obi-Wan, only to find that he was looking resolutely away from her. _You will have to sort this out eventually,_ a voice rang out in her head, sounding like his own. It did sound like the sort of parental advice he would give, throwing her out into the lion's den to fend on her own. She must've imagined it.

"I'm sorry—well, it won't make sense," she said. "I've already told you the bulk of it. Nothing much, really, to explain, except maybe…." She trailed off, gesturing to the air as if it would conjure words for her.

"Except?" Luke urged.

"Except—oh, what the hell," she said eloquently with a sigh, pressing her back to the panel beside Luke.

She began to tell her story.

42.

Sorry it's a bit shorter than usual; I didn't have as much time. I don't think it's as good as my other ones, but I did enjoy Holly's interactions with Han. They're finally (sorta) friends! So, Time Lady Tinkerbell, here comes the beginning of team skeptical!

Please, review, follow, and favorite. Hopefully next update won't be so far away!


	10. Chapter 10

Hi! This one was quicker. At least it's still the weekend. Since I wanted to have something out before Monday, this one, as well, is short, albeit a bit longer than the previous one (and by 'a bit', I mean about 100 words). So, hopefully I'll get the next chapter out soon. I personally can't wait.

Disclaimer: I'm not George Lucas. If I were, I suppose that this would be canon. But, given the site that it's on, I'm gonna let you guys assume what you will. I don't own Star Wars.

Chapter Ten:

She began to tell her story.

The important parts, at least. Most of them.

She explained her predicament—a schoolgirl merely wishing to return home. That had surprised Luke—("You're only seventeen?")—who then stared at her as though she were an alien. Which, technically, she was, depending on how you viewed 'aliens'.

Holly's next statement was rather embarrassing to admit: "Everything was fine until I ran into the pole," she said. It wasn't as though she had actually seen the pole, however, and told them so.

"You didn't see this 'pole' at all?" he asked, disbelief marinating his voice.

"No," she answered. "It was like….well, like an invisible wall, I think. Actually, I have no idea whether it even was a pole—as I said, I didn't see it." Holly was quite surprised that she made it this far in her explanations; the way things had been going, she would have expected to cower away from this, as well.

That threw him into a deep bout of concentration, yet he waved an arm impatiently, urging her to continue. And so she did, recounting the occurrences immediately after her unfortunate collision with the….thing, not really leaving much out, except for the fact that she could hardly think coherently at the time, and the fact that she only recognized 3PO and R2 from pictures. In fact, she neglected to mention anything about any prior knowledge of the droids at all.

When Holly mentioned the vast expanse of nothing but sand, set upon the planet in rolling hills, a look of recognition swept across both of their faces. "Ah, you must have passed through—" began Obi-Wan, though he was cut off.

"That must've been the Dune Sea!" said Luke excitedly, not noticing that he interrupted Obi-Wan. Holly noticed the annoyed look the older man sent to the boy, but Luke certainly didn't. He just seemed to excited to have recognized the place. Did he want to know what happened that badly?

"I knew it!" Holly exclaimed. "I could have sworn it was Dune! Well, it isn't exactly, but you can give me some credit…." She trailed off, not exactly seeing the point in anything she was saying, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Um, never mind. Anyway, we just kept walking…."

In her nervousness to finish her story, Holly stumbled over a few of her words. It was undignified when she tried to cover it up, and as her voice became shaky with worry that they wouldn't the believe her story—which was, for once, the only truth she could honestly tell—she chose to stand and pace around the room.

She braced herself for the next part, which proved to be, by far, the most difficult, the part they could already guess, if everything else she had said was to be taken to heart. Shooting a silent plea to Obi-Wan, begging that she didn't actually have to say this part, his expression urged her to speak.

Taking a deep breath, she recited what she had told 3PO. Most of this Luke and Obi-Wan had already known; Luke knew it because she had used it as an alibi, R2 and 3PO for the same reason. Obi-Wan knew because….well, he just did. That was his thing, knowing before you told him.

She pointedly did _not_ look at her new friends….acquaintances….things, fearing the look of disappointment would undoubtedly be written in their eyes and expressions. Were they really her friends? She had known them for, at most, three days; who was she to address them thus? Either way, what did it matter? There were larger plights at hand than who her _friends_ were.

The problem was, would they believe her? Holly's heart had lodged itself in her throat and she was sure her eyes were wide with panic. She hadn't every been an expert at hiding her emotions, mainly because she had never _needed_ to.

Just another thing to prove how woefully unprepared she was.

"You panicked," clarified Luke, and incredulous look plastered onto his face, "and it was easier to make up all of that stuff than to just say what happened?" The skepticism in his voice left no doubt to the fact that he didn't believe her, Holly thought.

"I—yeah, I panicked. But I didn't make all of that up." She could tell that Luke was about to fire off another question, but she quickly silenced him by continuing in a ramble-y jumble of nervous words. "Back home, there was an extensive story….all about different people, doing heroic deeds and saving the day—I'd loved it. It was basically my childhood. I guess it was easier to fall back on something I had always known than to actually tell the truth." She still did not look at them.

"Why?" Oh, wasn't it obvious?

"Well—must I really explain it?" she sighed in exasperation. "I'm dismally unfamiliar with all of this, that much is painfully obvious. But where I come from, telling random strangers vulnerable, possibly compromising personal information is unsafe," she explained, as if trying to drill it into them, to force them to believe her. "And, of course, I had no idea at the time that I wasn't in some desert on Earth and that this wasn't just some sick joke. 3PO and R2, they looked like something from science fiction. So why not spew something equally unbelievable?"

"You'd seen droids of this type before?" Obi-Wan pressed.

"No," she said. "Never. Nothing of the sort exists where I'm from. The closest thing to it is speculation about the future…run by robots and such. I'd never personally seen droids before in my life." True enough.

She finally looked up at them, secretly dreading the mistrust and disappointment that would undoubtedly mar their expressions. But she didn't see anything of the sort.

They seemed understanding enough. 3PO, who Holly had been most worried about, only said, "Your other story wasn't particularly believable. I was just humoring you." He made sound as though he were praising himself, which made her laugh. She'd been so stressed that 3PO, her first—and possibly only—true friend here, would become uncharacteristically angry that she lied. It seemed that she did not know him quite as well as she thought.

Obi-Wan just nodded sagely. He stroked his beard absentmindedly, eyes narrowed as he looked at her, but somehow past her at the same time. Holly was familiar with this look; she had given it to Clare many times when she was pretending to listen to her Star Wars rants. _Why_ couldn't she have listened? It would save her so much trouble.

Luke, however….his head hung down, hair falling in front of his eyes so she couldn't see his expression. "So….so Uncle Owen was right?"

"In part," she said, still wary of how he would react. "I wasn't a captain. I'm really sorry about lying; I just had….absolutely no idea what to say. I didn't want to tell anyone who I was. Paranoia for you. But I'm no thief."

She told them everything short of the most important aspect of the journey. She told them everything short of why she didn't automatically dismiss this as a dream. She told them everything short of why she thought 3PO was a creepy Cosplayer and why she thought that she had been abducted and dumped into the Sahara or Mojave.

Holly did not say anything about Star Wars itself, existing as some movie series; she'd end up saying the wrong thing. She'd end up mentioning Darth Vader, and it would turn out that Luke isn't his son, that this was another Luke. He would get mad at her and kill her for suggesting such a thing. Or, Chewie would hear how much Holly knew about Harrison Ford, but how little she knew about Han Solo, and he'd pull her arms out of her sockets.

Or something like that.

She was overreacting and she knew it. There was no real reason not to tell them about the movies, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Something made her bite her tongue involuntarily and stopped her from uttering a single word about the films, as if an entirely different person were forcing her into silence.

Finally, they were through. It had taken a long time, but she finally told them everything that she physically could about her predicament. She turned to Obi-Wan. "So, what is your verdict? Has your Gandalf mind come up with a reason for why I'm here?"

She waited in eager anticipation for his answer. However, what his reply was less than satisfactory: "I'm going to need some time to think about it."

Holly was obviously crestfallen. "That doesn't mean I won't find an answer," Obi-Wan added. "Just give me some time."

Holly looked away. "All right," she agreed reluctantly. She turned to her golden robotic friend, an apologetic look on her face. "Are you mad at me?"

She knew that 3PO would tell the truth. "Of course not, ma'am," he said. "It's perfectly understandable. Besides, you were not very convincing." R2 beeped beside him. "Oh, quiet, R2; never for a second did I think she was really a captain. I did not!"

She had to smirk at that. Holly loved the dynamic between the two droids.

Turning to Luke, she asked again albeit more cautiously, "Are _you_ mad at me? Mad that I lied and caused a lot of trouble?"

Luke looked up, and she found his blue gaze unreadable until he gave a sort of half-smile and chuckled. "You didn't cause _me_ any trouble," he said, as if it were apparent. "If anything, the worst of it was when Aunt Beru got mad at Uncle Owen for sending you away."

Holly cocked her head to the side, completely lost for words. After a moment, she decided upon: "Err….sorry." She didn't want any of the earlier awkwardness that ensued when Luke first brought up his aunt and uncle; that had been downright uncomfortable. She looked down at her hands, suddenly very interested in them.

Why wasn't talking to Luke as easy as talking to Han?

42.

"Hi," Holly said. She was still looking at her hands, but this time, there was something to look _at._ Xenon crawled there, spry as ever, as if he hadn't just heard her basically confess her weird life story. Three-day story, whatever.

Maybe he just didn't care. She couldn't see why he would; after all, he was only a droid. What easy lives droids must lead. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Xenon clicked a few times, pressing against her palm and reminded Holly the way a cat would brush against one's leg. "Guess not, then. I'm just glad that you finally found your way away from that bug-hogging Wookiee."

Chewie growled good-naturedly, being well within earshot. They were all gathered around the table, after all; Holly had lost interest in the game of hologram chess that Chewie and the droids were playing, choosing instead to play with Xenon. She hadn't had much time since they boarded to be with her little droid.

"Oh, it's fine," Holly sighed. "Honestly, I'm just glad neither of you are trying to kill me." "Are you not afraid that we may try to harm you?" 3PO asked. R2 beeped beside him.

"Who would be afraid of you?" Holly chuckled. "When I met you, I could stroll faster than you could run."

"I'll have you know that we can both be rather antagonistic."

Holly looked at him, and his perpetually expressionless face just stared back at her as if he thought that he wasn't blatantly lying. "Ah, yes, I'm practically shaking with fright."

"I don't think she believes us, R2," 3PO turned to his shorter friend, who beeped in agreement, adding something else at the end that she couldn't discern. "Oh, of course I can, R2! You're not the only one capable of handling enemies."

"You just let yourself believe that," Holly smirked. Then she patted the slightly distressed droid on the shoulder. "Don't worry, 3PO. Even if you can't defend yourself, you'll come to no harm with me by your side!" she raised a fist as if in triumph.

"Yeah," mocked Luke from the middle of the room, where he was practicing with his lightsaber. "And what can you do that he can't?"

Holly scoffed at the personal affront. "I'll have you know, Blondie," she said, pointing a hopefully threatening finger at him, though its effect (if it had one) was diminished by the smile on her face, "that I can pack a pretty mean punch."

"Of course you can," he replied sarcastically. "Just as long as you have spiked gloves and your opponent isn't struggling. Actually, as long as your opponent is already on the ground."

"Ha, ha," she said, turning back to her droid friends. She leaned over the table and whispered in a voice perfectly audible to the entire room, "He's just jealous that I've got an army of droids by my side and he doesn't." It was an army of three droids, but an army nonetheless.

"So you admit that we're worth something in a fight," Luke pointed out. It wasn't really helping his claim, but it was refuting hers.

"Oh, hush it," she waved her hand. Holly didn't see his borderline gloating smirk, but she was certain it was there.

42.

"Are you alright?"

Upon hearing Luke's concerned tone, Holly rotated in her seat. She had taken to completely ignoring the 'Force Lessons' being given to Luke by Obi-Wan and became immersed in playing with Xenon; as of yet, she had not been given irrefutable proof (or any proof at all, for that matter) that the 'Force' existed. So far, all Luke was doing was waving his lightsaber around.

Obi-Wan sat down as if in fatigue as Luke crossed the room to him. The wizened man leaned over and Luke placed a steadying hand on his elbow as Holly rushed over as well. "What happened?" she demanded in a worried voice.

"I felt a great disturbance in the Force," he said. The only thing that kept Holly from scoffing was the obviously venerable state Obi-Wan had been rendered in. "As if millions of voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." He looked away, eyes wide with his own fright. "I fear something terrible has happened."

Obi-Wan suggested that Luke continue with his rather unimpressive swinging of a lightsaber as he rested his forehead on his hand. Holly thought that Luke complied only to give the old man some space.

"Well, you can forget your troubles with those Imperial slugs," they all heard Han state as he strode down the corridor and turned a corner into the central room. It was odd to think of him by his first name instead of 'Solo', but it was slightly more natural. "I told you I'd outrun 'em."

The pilot sat in a chair besides Obi-Wan and herself, the side of whom she had not left. She was quite afraid that some dire fate would soon await him; he was particularly susceptible to death by the hand (or perhaps pen) of the writer, she mused, being the mentor character and all.

Luke, on the other hand, was standing in the center of the room, being the one who wielded the lightsaber. It was glowing bright blue, flooding his face in light that mirrored his eyes. Holly was sure to keep far away from the instrument of destruction, not thinking that Luke would purposely harm her but assuming that he wasn't the best at fighting with such a weapon just yet.

If only to add to the perplexing atmosphere of, well, everything, a small grey sphere floated in midair. It hovered around the former farm boy, and Holly took a frightened step back as she saw it shoot a blast of red energy at him.

He blocked it with the saber, thankfully, but not even his eyes were calm as he did so; Holly could tell that he was scared, perhaps more frightened than she had been. After all, he was the one being shot at.

"Don't everybody thank me at once," grumbled Han as he watched Luke's lightsaber practice. He didn't seem to notice Obi-Wan's distress. "Anyway, we should be at Alderaan at about oh-two-hundred hours." Ugh. Military time.

"What the—why is that thing shooting at you?" Holly demanded of Luke, a shocked expression on her face. She wasn't angry at him—no, more accurately, she was worried: worried about the safety of the ship, housing both a lightsaber and the blasts, and the safety of Luke himself. She kept her distance, however, as he continued to dodge the blasts.

"Practicing," Luke said through clenched teeth, holding the saber steady before him, waiting for the next shot to be fired. "You heard Ben say that I have to practice with this, and apparently, getting shot at is the best way to go about doing it." He gritted out the words as he concentrated on not getting killed.

"It won't harm you," commented Obi-Wan from the side, head still resting against his hand. Holly wondered what was wrong, but he continued before she could ask. "The most they can do is sting you."

The two younger passengers nodded, Luke resuming his training and Holly turning back to Obi-Wan. "Um, sir?" she asked, getting his attention. "I don't quite get what happened, a minute ago. Are you suggesting telepathy of some sort, something that would let you hear when others were in terror?"

He looked over at her for a moment as if he were talking with her without speaking. It was a unique look that only those most experienced can master, one that required years, of toil behind them. Holly would have normally flinched under a gaze akin to this one, but somehow, the way that Obi-Wan delivered it never quite seemed hostile. "Do you not feel it?"

She tried to feel it. Honestly, she did. Holly came up with nothing. "I'm afraid not. At least, I don't think so. Nothing abnormal. What was I supposed to feel?"

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. "It was something I felt it through the Force. Much like an immense wave of fright—many voices, many thoughts of imminent doom, calling out through the Force, begging for help. It comes from far away, many agonizing screams—something terrible has happened."

Holly stood very still, eyes wide. "That means that they died?"

Obi-Wan nodded gravely.

"Was it like….like you were personally feeling something, but it wasn't your emotion?" she asked cautiously. She didn't want to be seen as a fool, bringing up what she felt—or, at least, thought she had felt—when she had that bout of empathy (or whatever it was) from Luke.

"You know of this feeling?"

Holly nodded slowly, unsure. "I felt it a couple of times—well, once, really, a bit earlier, before we left Tatooine, but it was so….different," she said, suddenly sheepish. If it turned out that she wasn't really feeling any empathy of any type—which it probably would—it would be rather embarrassing. "I mean, it wasn't anything like what….what happened to you, obviously. But it was an emotion that _wasn't_ my own, though I still felt it."

He nodded in a way that suggested he wasn't really nodding an 'affirmative', but rather simply showing that he heard her. His eyes were downcast and his hand was still on his forehead, but Holly could tell that he was deep in thought, mulling over this information.

Holly knew that she could tell him the simple answer: she felt sorry for someone. It hadn't happened before, she mused, because there wasn't anyone in her life for whom she should feel sorry; that's why she only felt it when she spoke to Luke—Holly must have seen something in his face that changed her emotions.

Yes, that must have been it.

"Sir?" she asked. She expected a verbal acknowledgement by now, but he didn't respond. "Obi-Wan, sir?" Holly repeated more forcefully.

"Oh, yes," he said, looking up now, as if just waking up. "This is….this is confusing, indeed…." He trailed off.

"Have you thought of….of any reason why, you know, why I'm here?"

"I've not," he said. "Yours is certainly a…." he hesitated, thinking for the proper word, " _unique_ tale. All I can say is….it is undoubtedly tangled with the Force…." he began to trail off again, "much more than I'd expected."

The Force? What she and Han had spoken of earlier was ridiculous. It was the sort of thing that people back home would be divided into two groups on: those who swore their lives to believing that it and everything about it controlled them and everything about them, and those who swore their lives to believing that it and everything about it was complete basket weaving, beetle tracking, occupational therapy for morons. Like destiny, or Murphey's Law.

The thing was, Holly didn't believe in destiny, but she did believe in Murphey. Maybe those had been bad examples.

Not wanting to offend him and his weird strange magic, Holly remained silent.

"Let him have it," she heard from Han beside her, addressing the droids and Chewie and bringing another conversation to her consciousness. "It's not wise to upset a Wookiee."

"But sir," 3PO argued. "Nobody worries about upsetting a droid."

"That's 'cause droids don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose," Han explained in a tone that suggested incredulity. "Wookiees are known to do that."

3PO looked from Chewie, who put his arms behind his head in a very smug (and very Han-like) manner, to R2, who just beeped lightly. "I see your point, sir," he conceded. "I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the Wookiee win."

Holly chuckled. There was something about 3PO that should have annoyed her, but didn't; usually, she despised people who flaunted their ego, nurturing it until it grew legs and ran them over. That was why she didn't like Han Solo when she first met him; she thought that his existence was one over-inflated ego. 3PO had an absurd ego, true, but rather than being annoyingly abrasive in advertising this fact, he was just amusing. Maybe it was because everybody knew that nobody believed him.

The methodical humming of Luke's lightsaber had all but escaped her notice. Having grown used to the sound, Holly found it oddly soothing, and because it didn't distract her from thinking, that was exactly what she found herself doing.

What was all of this about? Not the lightsaber's noise, no, nor the humorously egotistical droid. On Obi-Wan her thoughts dwelt, for she knew that he, and only he, could actually give her some answers. Her first impression of Obi-Wan was that he was a sagely old guy, which most people probably thought when they saw him. He was the one with the answers; it was his role. She knew that this was a story, and if this adventure actually went along with, well, the story, Holly was pretty familiar with the roles that people played. Being the only old guy here, Obi-Wan _must_ be the cryptic guide.

She couldn't imagine that Luke would know anything. She wasn't stupid; she could gather from what he told her and what little she knew of his personality that the way he acted was highly implicative of relative ignorance (relative because, only to Obi-Wan was he ignorant—to Holly, he was like Sherlock Holmes with how much he knew). Yet everything seemed to be about him—other than the movies, of course; he's the main character, obviously.

But everything else—everywhere she's been had led to him. In the desert—Dune Sea or whatever it was—she had met the droids, of course, and the Jawas, but the first humans she met were Luke and his late uncle. Then, Luke send her to Mos Eisley; where, again, she ended up crossing paths with him. And now, Obi-Wan and his band of merry men, droids, Wookiee, and teenage girl were on a quest _with the main character._

But beyond that—Holly's 'empathy', as she had taken to calling it, was something that she felt when _he,_ specifically, was doleful, mourning the loss of his family. It had been an enlightening moment for her—her friends (correction, her _one_ friend) had not suffered through the deaths of their parents or parental figures, and she had not been close to anyone who was particularly depressed. Thus, she had never really been empathetic for anything more malignant than a common cold or stubbed toe—it was like a lesson learned, another experience gained.

So why had it been so unpleasant? Was empathy always so pitiful?

"Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force _flowing_ through him," Obi-Wan, by now recovered, said to Luke, the sudden statement pulling Holly out of her reverie as she glanced towards Luke, who was still doing the exercises.

"You mean it controls your actions?" he asked, still staring at the glowing robot in front of him with wide, tracking its every move.

"Partially," he affirmed, "but it also obeys your commands."

That didn't make much sense at all to Holly, but she had learned long ago not to argue much with those who pledged their lives to some weird religious following, which the 'Force' seemed to be. But how could something control you, yet at the same time obey what you say?

Conversation seemed to be a distraction to Luke, and the droid found his weakness, taking this opportunity to send a red bolt of energy shooting towards him. Luke jerked away as it hit his side, and Han laughed at his expense.

"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are hardly a match for a good blaster at your side, kid," he chuckled.

Holly nodded, agreeing. However, she did think that the lightsabers were cool, even if the people who used them were crazy….

"You don't believe in the Force, do you?"

It sounded more like a statement than a question. "I've flown from one end of this galaxy to another; I've seen a lot of strange stuff. But I've never seen _anything_ to make be believe there's some all-powerful force controlling _everything,_ " he explained. Since Holly already knew this, she only found herself wondering what 'strange stuff' Han had seen in his travels. "There's no mystical energy field that controls my destiny," he added pompously, as if he were at least entertaining the notion that the Force existed, but he was an exception to its universal monopoly. "It's all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense."

"Even if it does exist," Holly began, "how _would_ it exist in the universe? It doesn't seem like any form of matter, if it's everywhere. And if it's somehow dark matter, or anti-matter, how do people _harness_ it?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "It's a physical impossibility."

Obi-Wan begun to stand. "I suggest you try it again, Luke," said he, turning to pull a helmet off of a hook on the wall. "This time, let go your conscious self and act on instinct." He placed the helmet on Luke's head, as if only to prove them wrong.

"With the blast shield down, I can't even see!" Luke complained. "How am I supposed to fight?" His tone suggested that Obi-Wan were crazy, which he probably was.

"Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them." That's a death sentence.

"Just remember," Holly added, imitating Obi-Wan's lecturing tone. "There is no spoon." She smirked at the reference that no-one but herself would understand and appreciate.

Han made an amusingly confused face, which Luke accompanied with a confused noise. But he activated his lightsaber anyway, preparing to prove Han and Holly incorrect. As if to prove their point, the first bolt hit him square in the shoulder.

"Amendment," Holly said. "How about: 'There is no blaster'?" They ignored her again, understandably.

"Stretch out with your feelings," Obi-Wan urged.

This time, Luke held himself more carefully, yet at the same time, less so. The next three shots—all fired in quick, heart-wracking succession—were blocked by Luke's glowing blade. Holly stared, wide eyed, at him as he took off the helmet.

"See? You can do it," Obi-Wan smiled.

"I call it luck," Han dismissed.

"In my experience, there's no such thing as luck," he countered.

"Well, what of calculation?" Holly asked, serious for once. "It's a droid, a machine. It's programmed, and must run off of patterns. Even though it's unlikely, Luke may have just found the glitch in the system and known where it would fire the shots. A pattern." Maybe she should cool down with the references. They were getting old, even to her.

"Look, good against remotes is one thing," Han backed her up. "Good against the living, that's something else." He locked eyes with Holly, as if confirming their truce. She understood it, nodding; they were going to gang up, fight the forces of….the Force, and conquer the galaxy with logical reasoning.

Okay, maybe not, but at least they could be the two with common sense.

A beeping alerted them to a new development. "Looks like we're coming up on Alderaan," Han said, striding out of the room with Chewie in tow, preparing to land or…whatever. Holly felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of finally going to a different alien planet—she'd been to Dune, so what's next? Caladan? Magrathea?

"You know, I did feel something," Luke said with confidence. "I _could_ almost see the remote."

"That's good," Obi-Wan clapped him on the shoulder. "You've taken your first step into a larger world."

The two of them began to follow Han down the corridor. Holly hung back, standing and crossing her arms as she considered what they would see when they went to the cockpit, for that was the undoubtable destination. She didn't realize that Luke had halted, as well, until he spoke up.

"You know, Holly," he said, approaching her. "You're really….unusual."

"Is that really news to anyone?" she asked rhetorically. "I tell you my true story, and only now you deem me weird?"

"No!" he objected. "No, I mean….not weird, really, just….different. You know, how everything about you is just so, well, surreal."

"You're traveling with a guy who believes that dark matter tells him what to do—but only once he orders it to—and you call _me_ surreal?" Her tone wasn't harsh; if anything, it was playful, incredulous. What was Luke getting at?

"Look, I honestly can't understand how you, of all people, _don't_ believe in the Force," he pointed out. "You're obviously surrounded by it! How else could you even _be_ here if not for the Force?"

"God?" she suggested. He fixed her with a pointed stare. "Hey, it's just as plausible—no, even _more_ plausible than any of your theories."

"Then why are you depending on Ben for answers, if he's _just_ a guy who believes in the Force?" he mocked, though it wasn't quite scornful. Holly didn't respond; he had her at a loss for words. "Okay, how about this," he proposed. "I'll _prove_ to you the Force is real."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked. "Try all you want. You can't even prove God; he exists out of faith. Doesn't the Force do that also?"

"No, it's fact," he pressed. "Really, once I've learned enough from Ben, I'll show you, beyond all doubt, that the Force _is_ real." He could tell she wasn't buying it. "I bet—I bet there's even a way that the Force could get you home."

She gave him a withering look. 'Home' wasn't something to just joke about, as he must have been doing now. This was a joke, right?

"No, seriously. You'll know exactly why you're hear, exactly how you got here, and how to return," he continued. "I'll get the answers for you, if you won't look for them. You can count on it." His face was completely humorless, earnest. "Trust me?"

"No," she said, starting for the corridor. "But have at it—I'll still wake up, back at home, and this'll all be a dream, but if you're so certain that you can solve all my problems by trusting the Force, well….who am I to stop you?"

"I'll get you answers," he repeated. "I swear."

Holly shook her head, a soft, amused smile on her face—it surprised her at how simply hopeful Luke sounded, as if it actually mattered to him what came of her. His confidence in the Force was, as well, shocking—from what she understood, he didn't know much of it himself, yet that he believed it wholeheartedly was something astounding. Holly lacked his faith, but he seemed to think that he could prove her wrong.

Honestly, she'd like to see him try.

And then she remembered—oh, how could she forget? This was _Darth Vader's son_. She knew that this couldn't be good. But….there was nothing, _nothing_ about Luke to suggest that he was inherently evil or anything. He seemed nice enough, until he decided to insult some random piece of fully functional machinery, that is.

Though….Luke hadn't been raised by Vader. Maybe he didn't learn to be evil from his father; his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru had raised him, maybe just so Darth Vader wouldn't have to.

Luke wasn't evil. She could tell; in stories (at least, stories like this) the main character, the good guy who saved the say, _wasn't_ evil. He just wasn't. They never had that trademark 'bad guy' sort of look—they were nice, dependable, heroic. They were brave.

Luke seemed to be all of those. No, Holly decided. Luke Skywalker didn't take after his father at all.

Or maybe he was just a late bloomer.

42.

So! She's told them. They know about her unexpected journey. (Some of it, at least.) Only time will tell what Obi-Wan makes of it... And, I just thought I should note that, although Han wasn't in the room when she explained what happened, he still overheard. (The cockpit can't be _that_ far away from the other room.)

Time Lady Tinkerbell: I actually had to ask my anime-guru friend what that means, and once he told me, I completely understood why you'd think that with Han. I always pictured him as the sort to take some getting used to. And, yes, she's really confused about Luke and his Dad-it may just cause her trouble in the future. I guess only the author knows, right? Thanks for your review, as always, and I hope you liked this chapter too!

Brievel: I'm so glad that you reviewed every chapter. It made me smile when I remembered what I had typed to warrant all those reactions...I'm glad you're finding a lot of amusement from the story. And, yeah, Holly's impulsive; if she weren't, you'd be reading about her sitting on a dune in the desert. Not too exciting.

Guest: Aw, thanks. And, yeah, I love murder mysteries. I'm not often right, but trying to find out whodunit is fun.

Himeno Kazehito: Don't worry, it'll get there. I just wanted to waste time establishing a friendly-ish relationship first before getting to the romance, but I'll get to it either at the end of this movie or the very beginning of the next. I just hope I don't botch it :) But it's nice to know what my readers want to see.

Oh, yeah, and I went back and changed all of those misspelled names and other typos I've been alerted of. If you see any others, please tell me!

Thanks to all who followed, favorited, and reviewed!


	11. Chapter 11

So, hello again! I can't believe I've actually gotten this far with the story. 11 Chapters! And, to add to that, 42 reviews! Some of you may recognize the numerous mentions of that number in this story, and a few of you may know why :) It's not like it's a secret or a riddle or anything. But, that doesn't matter, I'm so glad I've reached that number and that you guys like it so far!

Disclaimer: I don't have any rights to Star Wars. It would have been really awesome to look at anything bearing its awesome symbol and say, " _Star Wars,_ I _am your creator,_ " but, alas, I'd be lying.

Chapter Eleven:

 _It was not dark, despite the lack of illumination, just as it was not light, despite the looming radiance. It wasn't there, but it was everywhere—constant, yet perpetually halting, as absent as it was present. In contradiction it existed, yet a contradiction it existed not, all the same—balance._

 _All forces—positive and negative, chaotic and orderly, calming and turbulent—existed harmoniously, ideally. The absolute value of each was the same—opposite ends of the spectrum, each equal in their own right pressed overbearingly upon one another in the desperate fight for dominance. Neither won; their destructive interference brought high to low, frequencies and wavelengths mixing as they observed perfect harmony, equaling zero and infinity simultaneously._

 _A clearer picture one cannot paint—there is as much clarity as there is obscurity, here, now, yet everywhere, every when._

 _'_ _Has it been yet long enough?' called a thought through the void, which existed just as it did not, packed tightly within itself. The voice was tranquil and furious._

 _Another thought answered that one, though it was as identical as it was disparate. 'The time—or so they perceive the passage to be—has not yet dawned upon this one.'_

42.

Holly set Xenon onto her shoulder as she raced down the corridor after Luke. Something was wrong, she could tell; the ship jerked left and right at odd intervals, not the usual swaying or humming she had grown accustomed to over the course of the ride. She could hear voices before she had even turned the final corner to the cockpit, hear Han sending steady yet pressured orders to his Wookiee copilot. She overtook Luke and Obi-Wan as she raced towards the cockpit, frantic to know what the complication was.

"Han, what's wrong?" she demanded in a wary, slightly frightened tone once she flung herself into the cockpit. Han and Chewie were tense as they sat stationed, and the former's head shot back and forth frantically as he fought to control his ship.

"….out of hyperspace into a meteor shower. Some kind of asteroid collision—it's not on any of the charts," he informed in a rushed voice.

Holly lodged herself between the two chairs—yet still well out of their way—as she struggled to make out what was happening beyond the glass, squinting. All she could see were vague disturbances. She dug into her pocket and extracted the two halves of her glasses, holding them to her face.

There were, indeed, massive rocks—they looked to be barreling towards them, though she knew that it was truly their ship rushing closely past them. They were in some sort of asteroid belt, it seemed, though why had it not come up on their charts? It wasn't as though it could have been hiding; where was Alderaan?

Luke and Obi-Wan were not far behind. "What's going on?" came the quick, equally curious voice of Luke behind her.

"Our position is correct," Han confirmed Holly's thoughts, but that _didn't_ settle her. "Except….no Alderaan."

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "Where is it?"

"An entire planet can't have disappeared!" Holly protested. "You must be in the wrong place! No technology is completely foolproof; your scanners may be messed up."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, kid," he said to Luke. "It ain't there, and I _know_ this region, Holly. These aren't faulty scans. It's been totally blown away." "What?" disbelief and awe were both equally present in Luke's voice behind her. "How?"

Luke was right behind her, and she felt him lean forward, as if that would warrant a better view. She was preparing to shy away to the right to allow him more space when she felt his hand on the shoulder of hers over which he was peering. She met that hand with a chary glance, surprised at the gesture and unused to the contact. He didn't seem to notice, however, as he continued to stare out of the cockpit; Holly didn't bring attention to it, assuming that it had been a somehow habitual reaction.

"Destroyed," Obi-Wan said behind them. "By the Empire."

Holly's head whipped around in surprise, but what was even more shocking was finding his face unceasingly serious. How—the Empire can't just some in and blow up a planet! That's only possible in the Hitchhiker's Guide, with the Vogons who, should she mention, were not there!

It seemed she wasn't the only one disbelieving. "The entire Starfleet couldn't destroy a whole planet," Han argued. Holly caught Obi-Wan's raised eyebrow as he said this. "It'd take a thousand ships with more firepower than I've…." He was interrupted by the loud, rapid beeping of an alarm, signaling Han-knows-what else coming to make their day even more confusing.

"There's another ship coming in!" he declared. Han _did_ know what else it was.

"Maybe they know what happened," Luke said hopefully just as Holly asked, "Are they the enemy?" They glanced towards each other, each noting the drastic difference in reactions, and she was oddly more aware of his hand on her shoulder (which he still didn't seem to notice, by the way), before Obi-Wan responded with his astounding intuition.

"It's an Imperial Fighter." Holly glanced back to the viewport, adjusting her grip on the glasses frames held in front of her eyes. There was something flying ahead of them—they had all but cleared the asteroid field, and the 'Fighter' flew swiftly before them, dark and looming, like a secret dreaded spy.

"It must've followed us!"

"No," Obi-Wan disagreed with his young pupil. "It's a short range fighter."

Holly's eyes narrowed. "But that means….well, there aren't—"

"There aren't any bases around here," Han stated, finishing her statement for her. "Where'd it come from?"

"Sure is leaving in a big hurry," Luke snapped, irritated. "If they identify us, we're in big trouble!" What he so irate because of Han or the Fighter? Holly couldn't decide; he disliked both, it seemed.

"Not if I can help it. Chewie, jam their transmissions!"

"It'd be as well to let it go," Obi-Wan pointed out, indicating its retrieving form, which was hardly more than a dot in the distance. "It's too far out of range."

Han protested stubbornly. "Not for long."

They all felt the _Falcon_ surge forward with a sudden burst of speed. Holly felt her body rock back, and she was now thankful for Luke's hand on her shoulder, steadying her unintentionally. She sent him a small nod of thanks, and he smiled slightly, as if just now realizing he still rested his hand there. He awkwardly pulled it back.

The old man's voice was speculative as he watched the small but threatening craft. "A fighter that size couldn't get this deep into space on its own."

"He must've gotten lost, been part of a convoy or something." Luke's tone made Holly think of it as a little duckling straying too far from the line of its mother, an odd image for something that's supposed to be menacing.

"Well, then, he ain't gonna be around long enough to tell anybody about us," Han decided.

The balance was thrown off in Holly's two unequally placed lenses, though she did her best to hold them steady. Nonetheless, she could easily see what Luke meant when he next spoke. "Look at him; he's heading for that small moon!" For there, in the distance, was a celestial object growing ever closer, at first hardly brighter than the stars that were its background, but it soon came into clearer view to Holly. It wasn't quite a 'small moon' anymore.

"That's no moon," Obi-Wan's calming tone was not without heed. "It's a space station."

"It's too big to be a space station," the pilot disagreed. Holly tried ever harder to make out any more details in its surface—as they got closer, she could see Obi-Wan's doubts. The faint contours (well, faint to her, at least) were much to symmetrical to be any believable planet or moon, though Holly couldn't imagine any man (or alien)-made object being of such immense size.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," Luke muttered as he stared, wide-eyed, and the space-station-moon object. As they soared ever nearer, Holly could tell that it was too exact, too parallel to itself to be a moon. Obi-Wan was right.

"Turn the ship around," he stated in a heeding tone, promising that something bad would undoubtedly happen if that precaution was not taken.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Han declared. "Full reverse. Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power!"

The speed at which they were gravitating forwards did not slow. Rather, they seemed to gain speed. Holly's heart thudded in her rib cage. It was as if no other point in her unbelievably fantastical journey up to this point was as real as it was now, for the terror that surged through her was enough to make her wish for a quiet, short, and pitiful existence back in the deserts of Tatooine.

"Tractor beam," she muttered, thinking back to all the previous perils she'd witnessed on the screen of her laptop back home. Funny, all of those seemed woefully insignificant when she thought of how menial they were while she was here, now, in an equally menial and insignificant world—but the only difference was she was actually _there._

"Why are we still moving towards it?!" demanded Luke, his panicked voice sound in her ear.

"We're caught in a tractor beam! It's pulling us in!" Holly having uttered her two cents too low for anyone to hear, Han informed the others in the crowded cockpit what was happening.

"There must be something you can do!"

Han shook his head violently and reached behind them to mess with controls above their heads. "There's nothing I can do about it, kid, I'm at full power. I'm gonna shut down! They're not gonna get to me without a fight," he gritted out, concentrating hard to set commands into the ship's central computer.

The space station was enormous, that much was apparent; completely spherical, it had nothing to a planet or a star, so far as Holly could tell, but that fact did not take away from the sheer terror it evoked in her. Just sitting there, obviously threatening and evil—far larger than any man-made object she had ever seen or heard of—it was the type of thing you'd see and then immediately turn away from. That course of action, however, was eliminated. It had a _tractor beam._ It was _pulling them in._

Holly gulped.

Obi-Wan warned Han, "You can't win, but there are alternatives to fighting."

They all stared ahead, eyes wide with fear and anticipation. Holly was sure that even Chewie, with his usually expressionless face, would feel a wave of nervousness as they all gazed towards the looming station. Despite not even being the size of a planet, it was far beyond being as scary as one tenfold.

"Just what are you suggesting?" questioned Han.

42.

Obi-Wan's plan, while not entirely foolproof, was brilliant. It was much better than anything the others could have come up with. As for Han, he suggested taking a blaster to each and every one of them; it didn't take much intellectual prowess to see the holes in that plot. Luke agreed with whatever Obi-Wan said, nearly by default—Holly didn't know if he was so eager to agree anytime or just with something actually worthwhile, but she supposed that it didn't matter. Anything was better than her suggestion of fake mustaches, noses, and glasses to disguise themselves. It wouldn't have worked on R2 and Xenon anyway, though she did think that it would go nicely with Chewie's complexion.

"Be serious for once," Han sneered good-naturedly but also warningly as they all made for the corridor nearer the entrance. "Come on, I've got the storage units over here."

So they chose to bravely run away. Or, rather, bravely stow away.

As they passed the central room, they rounded up the droids. Xenon was already on Holly's shoulder, chirping wildly. He could sense the danger, it seemed, and wasn't hiding the fact. Holly tried to shush him quietly as they rushed through, though it was to no avail.

"Wait—Han, wait!" she said quickly, darting across the room and coming to a halt at the round table that had, until recently, been the home of a game of sci-fi chess. She searched frantically for a moment before spotting her denim bag on the floor, right where she had left it. Holly dove for it, swinging it around her shoulder as she turned back to the waiting group. "Sorry."

"Hurry up!" Luke urged, egging her on as they all raced down the corridor. Han led them through different passageways, turning sharp corners quicker than Holly could even register their directions. "Where are these things, Han? It's like we're going through a maze!"

"It's just near the entrance," informed Han, lowering his voice. Sound carried well in the _Falcon._ "I just need to stop by something first…" As if on cue, he came to a stop near a wall panel. It was beeping leisurely, being one of the only thing that operated that wasn't rushed or scared out of their wits right now. The droids were fretting, and Holly was sure that she wasn't the only one hearing the thudding of their own heart.

He pressed in something that Holly couldn't even hope to identify. "What did you do?"

"I'm adjusting the logs," he answered her. "I need to buy us some more time….and a better cover….say we abandoned ship, oh, before we even left Tatooine's orbit. I've only got one escape pod, anyway, though there's room for three. That'll throw them through a little loop, make them believe we're just a bunch of floating junk." Smart.

"Good thinking," Obi-Wan praised. "But me must hurry—I sense danger very near."

"You got it," Han nodded as he did something akin to 'closing out of tab', or at least, that's what Holly gathered from it.

Their roundabout trip continued, except this time, they seemed to be backtracking. Holly couldn't possibly remember the rout, though she supposed that was fair, since she didn't exactly try to.

Soon, however, she felt something different, not really pertaining to the whole 'run for cover' situation at all. There was something just...off. Out of balance. It was then that Holly realized that the familiar chirping, familiar buzzing that she had actually grown to find comfort in, wasn't there anymore. She couldn't hear Xenon, nor could she feel him sitting there on her shoulder, shifting from foot to foot to foot to foot to foot to foot to foot to foot anxiously. "Xenon?!" she shrieked in a whisper, suddenly halting and spinning around.

She could see him—he was surprisingly far away, sitting in a corner, just sort of waiting. Holly had no idea how long he'd been there, or when he'd even crawled from his shoulder. "Xenon!" she called, shoving past 3PO, who had been lagging behind, to reach him.

"Holly?" a frantic voice called out. Holly registered somewhere in the back of her mind that it was Luke, who must have been the first (besides 3PO) to notice that she was gone. Holly dove for Xenon, but he darted away.

He wasn't running from her, it seemed. He didn't look as though she were his enemy. Rather, Holly thought he looked as though he were running towards something, something in the other direction. "Xenon, what are—where are you going?" she hissed, trying to get him to come back. He didn't stop his departure, however, and kept racing down the corridor. "Xenon, no! Come back!" She had no choice but to follow him. Well, she actually _did_ have a choice, she just chose to ignore the other options.

"Holly, where are you?" Han called, panicked voice louder than it had been. Holly was out of sight now, trying desperately to get to her little bug. She knew that it was so incredibly stupid, to jeopardize everything for the sake of her droid, but there was nothing keeping them from going on. She'd catch up, right after she— _oh, damn,_ Holly interrupted herself.

Xenon had turned another corner, and Holly swore both to herself and him as she followed. "I'll be there in a moment!" she called back to Han and the others before speeding up and making a grab for Xenon. "Go ahead, I'll be there right—oh, Xenon, just stop, will you?"

She hadn't stopped once. Xenon hadn't stopped. Holly could hear Han and Luke shouting for her behind her, though they tried to keep their voices down, and it was perhaps a combination of this fact and the growing distance between the two parties that stood as reason for the sound to stop reaching Holly's ears. She could hardly hear them anymore, just faint calls. All that she could distinguish was her name.

"Never mind, Holly, just find somewhere to hide, quick! And air vent or something!" the loudest call yet was the last that she heard. Xenon halted ahead of her, turning back and staring just a moment before racing back to Holly.

She watched, enraged, before scooping him up into her hands. "Xenon, you—you…." She muttered lowly. Holly stared around her, a new panic setting in.

 _Oh, my God_ , she thought. She was lost. She was an idiot, and she was lost. Holly had stumbled blindly down the corridor away from them, not knowing how to return, not knowing if she could. She hadn't known anything, because she hadn't thought. All that she had wanted to do was retrieve her bug, though in retrospect, that was such an idiotic, shortsighted, and rash decision. _Why_ had she done that?

Han's last words rang through her mind suddenly, and she was snapped back to the reality of the situation. _Hide…_ they must be boarding! Oh, Holy Hufflepuff, she needed to hide, quickly. Holly knew that she didn't have time to get back to them, especially if they were near the entrance.

Her eyes scanned quickly over the panels in the wall. Air vent, he had said. Air vent….That would be up high, she assumed, looking at the padded paneling there. Up high—she was short. She'd need a ladder with how short she was.

Holly mentally slapped herself. _Now isn't the time for panicked hyperbolic rambling._ She bounced on the balls of her feet as she shoved Xenon ungracefully into her hoodie pocket next to the parts of her glasses, reaching up and sliding her finger beneath the metal panels.

They budged with only a bit of pressure. Understandable; there had to be a way to access it for maintenance and repair. Holly wasn't a novice at the use of air shafts for hiding and travel, either, for she had seen it done loads of times in Star Trek. _And of course, that makes you an expert,_ a cynical part of her sneered.

It wasn't actually so high that she couldn't reach it. Holly shoved a few panels aside, resting them against the interior of the air vent. It was made of sturdy material, as was the entire ship, so the framework supporting her weight wouldn't be the issue. The issue would be fitting inside it.

Han knew how big she was, and he definitely knew how big the air vents were. She didn't think he'd suggest it to her if he though it impossible to climb into. So, Holly gripped the edges firmly in her sunburnt hands and placed a foot against a section of wired wall, somewhere that she wouldn't end up ruining by hoisting herself up, and kicked off.

Holly hadn't been a professional mountain climber or anything, but she had climbed her fair share of trees. Once both her feet were off the ground, she swung a knee up to hook around the edge. It was incredibly painful as the side dug into her skin, but Holly was thankful for her long jeans to provide some protection. The next part was trickier: wiggling and adjusting her body, she managed to lodge her torso in the vent, though that took much time and much painful metal digging into her ribs to achieve. Next, there was just the simple matter of inching forward far enough to get her legs in.

The side pressed against her hips uncomfortably, but it wasn't too much to bear. What was the most difficult was then sliding backwards, just so she could replace the paneling. What use was hiding in the air vent if anyone passing by could clearly see where she had come in from?

Once the panels were replaced, Holly was shrouded in complete darkness. Cool air pressed against her face, smelling musty, but not moving. Just existing in its stagnant state. It made her feel even more cramped. She wasn't claustrophobic, however; she actually preferred closed-in spaces. It was just that, in most cases, she wasn't hiding from a task force of aliens who were set on killing herself and her friends along with her.

Holly only hoped that Han, Luke, Obi-Wan, and the droids had made it in time. Everything was silent now—even the air was not moving past her now, despite the fact that this _was_ an air vent; as it turned out, powering down included shutting off life support systems as well. Because of the growing silence, which left a heart-racingly suspenseful ringing in her ears, Holly was sure she'd be able to hear any blaster fire. After all, they couldn't be that far; Holly had doubled back a bit after retrieving Xenon….

Speaking of, the little bug was still in her pocket. And she was laying on her stomach. Nearly exclaiming aloud, Holly raised herself slightly from the bottom of the shaft and dug in her pocket—thankfully, Xenon had curled himself into his protective shell. He was much stronger this way, more compact, with less appendages to be crushed. His fragile legs tucked within the outer shell, Holly sighed in relief and placed him back into her pocket. Only, this time, she put him in the pocket of her jeans. She may not have been in the best of moods with Xenon at the time, but she didn't want to _crush_ him.

Her glasses were poking into her stomach, but she hardly even noticed that. The adrenaline causing her blood to pump stopped it from hurting quite so much, although it also meant that her heart would beat nearly twice as fast. Holly was sure everyone (her new friends, new enemies, even her old family back home) could hear the thud of that damned organ against her ribcage. She quickly shoved her bag in front of her, way out of sight in the darkness, to allow herself more room.

Holly strained to hear anything happening beyond. That was a good thing, she supposed, because if there was something that happened, she would have heard it. Han and those Stormtroopers hadn't exactly been quiet when they skirmished at Mos Eisley, and the sound would undoubtedly reach her ears. They couldn't have been that far away from her, could they?

Her muscles were tense as she waited with baited breath for something to happen—the silence was disconcerting. While Obi-Wan's plan to hide right below their enemy's feet had been better than the rest of them could have done, she could now see the obvious cons that would be brought into light only _after_ the plan had been enacted. Her mind reeled through the possible outcomes, and Holly didn't know whether it was because of true probability or just plain pessimism that none of the outcomes were good.

Possibility one: they'd search the compartments. Unlikely, she assumed, because the only reason Han even has those units is _because_ people don't usually look in them. But then again, he's not usually smuggling for the Imperial Military, is he?

Possibility two: they would have dug themselves into a hole out of which they can't climb. So, the guards don't search the compartments and they're relatively safe, for the time being. What did they think the Empire would do then? There were probably guards stationed outside the ship anyway, even if their searches had turned up negative. How would they ever hope to evade their watchful eye? And even if they could, they'd never escape any tractor beam, let alone any on _this_ station.

Possibility three: they have scanners, something like infrared goggles that can sense the human's body heat. The droids would be safe enough, but the men….would the scanners be able to pick up their heat through the metal? Likely. They'd be doomed….would the Empire kill them, then, once they're found?

Holly shuddered at the thought. Though there were an infinite amount of worst case scenarios that she could theorize, Holly forced herself not to think of everything bad that could, and undoubtedly would, happen to her friends soon.

Holly's heart had not calmed, but she was growing accustomed to the constant state of tension. She was beginning to think that, perhaps, nothing would happen. Maybe there hadn't been anybody at the station after all; it was just a default precaution for the tractor beam to reel in any passer-by ships. Maybe they were all on holiday.

Yeah, likely.

Just then, there was a sound to cause her ears to perk up and her head to turn ever so slightly. It was the sound of running boots, thudding noisily against the metal floor. This ship was obviously built for neither comfort nor homeliness, merely for convenience, and there were no sound-canceling systems installed. Holly wasn't surprised.

She completely stopped breathing as the sound of booted footfalls grew ever louder, echoing through the nearly empty halls. Holly's wide eyes shot left and right in the darkness, trying to see if there was any way possible that they could see through the paneling. There didn't seem to be, and she listened to their speech in anticipation.

"This corridor's clear," came the voice of what she could only assume was an Imperial Guard. "You, check the next corridor. You two follow me."

She heard the footsteps going in different directions now, all away from her. She let out a quick breath, trying to keep it quiet, but Holly didn't know exactly how well she did. Yet, when she though that the worst was beyond her, she heard a parting comment from one of the troopers:

"Do you think the scanners will turn up anything?"

Her breath hitched again as she awaited the reply, strung in suspense. "I'm not sure," his comrade replied. "I don't even know why this one has such tight security. I mean, it's a piece of junk!"

Why was everyone dissing the _Falcon_? This thing was _awesome_! They didn't know how to appreciate things.

Their conversation grew muffled as they strode out of earshot. Holly was frozen, staring straight ahead, as if it would help her see. She didn't want to see, though—seeing would mean light, and light would mean that the panel was taken away. That would mean that someone had found her—she'd be captured, she knew it. All Holly wanted to do, now, was curl up in a corner, out of sight and out of mind, until this was all sorted out….until they were ready to get out of here.

But where would they go? Alderaan had been destroyed, apparently. How was that even possible? She knew that the Vogons did it in science fiction, but this wasn't science fiction anymore. It was real.

For her, at least.

Why couldn't she have gone to a completely safe world where nothing abnormal _whatsoever_ could even entertain the possibility of happening? Yeah, that eliminated nearly everything she knew about (fictional or otherwise), but at least she'd have survived the week.

Han was real. Obi-Wan was real. Chewie, R2, and 3PO—they were all real. _Luke_ was real, and he was possibly one of the most unusual of all of them, even if that was only because he was the hero. But if _they_ were real, that meant that all of those on Alderaan were real, too. Every voice of terror that Obi-Wan felt through the Force was real.

And they were all dead.

She would be too, soon, Holly just knew it. Dead and gone—her stupidity had gotten her into _way_ too much trouble. Neither Han, nor Luke, nor Obi-Wan, nor Chewie (well, maybe _him_ ), nor the droids especially would have run after a bug. Some stupid decision that was indeed—Xenon could probably have hidden safely. Holly hardly had a chance.

Why had Xenon run, anyway? Holly fished him out of her pocket as silently as she could, and after listening closely a moment to make sure she couldn't hear anyone around, whispered to him quietly, yet harshly.

 _"_ _What did you do that for?!"_ she demanded of him. She couldn't see him, and he couldn't see her, but she knew where she was, and although it was quite in vain, she fixed him with a scathing glare. She was _not_ happy with her droid now. _"Do you know how much trouble you've gotten me into?"_

He didn't reactivate immediately. She knew that he could hear her; he had done so before while in this state. So, why wasn't he answering? Was he mad at her? Maybe he had run off, thinking that this would be a good time to escape his (from his point of view) tyrannical rule. That was ridiculous; he had not shown any sign of distaste before. Did he not want to make much noise, or was this just the silent treatment? Holly hadn't done any wrong unto him, after all—it was Xenon who ran off to begin with.

Which brought her to another question: Was it, perhaps, some danger that he sensed that made him race off were the others much worse off than she was now? If so, how would Xenon know? And, to further negate that, he had looked as though he were running _towards_ something rather than _from_ it. Holly couldn't even explain to herself why she had that impression; she supposed that there were noticeable signs of purpose that she just couldn't put words or reason to.

Well, if Xenon wouldn't answer her….how would she ever know? Even if he did answer, she couldn't speak his language. She entertained the highly improbable possibility that he could write it out, but then she remembered that he didn't know her language.

And, after that, Holly remembered that she was currently squeezed inside an air ventilation shaft, just waiting for the "scanners" to arrive, so it wasn't likely that she'd ever write anything again.

Pity. She did have nice handwriting.

Holly's muscles had just begun to relax ever so slightly when, once more, the sound of footsteps berated her ears. She let out a shuddering, fearful breath before remaining completely still, shoulders stiff, as if that would stop her lungs from wanting air. She quickly shoved Xenon into her pocket, yet it was a harsh movement that she would have rather not needed to make. However, if Holly was captures, she'd want to have Xenon stowed away out of sight.

The footsteps sounded different this time. They weren't as….methodical, as steady as the others had been. The owners weren't marching, that much was obvious; and she could tell that there were more than one. Were they the scanning crew? Could their scanners penetrate whatever was blocking her from them?

Holly didn't have time to postulate the nature of these visitors. Her thoughts were cut short as the sound of metal clashing against metal reached her ears from the outside. It was getting louder, closer; they were ripping away the panels, and soon they'd reach hers—soon, they'd find her and she'd be captured and shot and oh, God she was scared….

Light flooded the ventilation shaft, sharp and bright against Holly's eyes. They were wide with terror and alarm as she stared, unblinking, at the raised gunpoint of a white-and-black armored trooper, like a deer caught in a car's headlights.

Oh, blood and bloody ashes, she was dead. Or would be soon, at any rate.

42.

So! I've introduced something more to this story...shouldn't be too hard to guess what. It'll come up more. Not sure when or how often, but just enough to serve its purpose.

And thanks to the wonderful people who took the time to review:

Himeno Kazehito: I'm glad you liked that one and hope this chapter is up to par as well. As for Yoda...I'm looking forward to that, too. It'll be a bit of a challenge, but still fun!

SecretaryOfHell: Yeah, Luke had always been one of my favorites. And, thank you; I do try to keep Holly in her character, and I'm glad you think it's realistic.

myharlequinromance321: Thanks! Characters, to me, are as important, and sometimes _more_ important, than the world they live in...that's why I've spent so much time on that aspect. Hope you liked this chapter!

Guest: I do completely agree with your argument. While Holly believes in God, however, it is not to her as the Force is to Obi-Wan, for example, in that she did not dedicate her life to the studies of God. Part of her character is that she thinks things through, when she takes the time to dwell on the aspects of religion. And, another thing; Luke doesn't quite know as much about the Force as the audience does, and he certainly doesn't know as much as Obi-Wan, so some things he says will be wrong and it's a challenge the characters will have to work through. (Hopefully they'll be a bit more clear when they get to Yoda). Thanks for reviewing; I do like when people point out things the disagree with! It kinda lets me know more.

EGGS: Thank you! Yeah, Vader is basically the face of Star Wars. She'll recognize him, certainly, and it'll be interesting to see if he lives up to her expectations...

Well, before I sign out, there are a couple of things I'd like to mention. First, I may have to change points of view in the next few chapters to relay the story better and more completely. Just a warning.

And, another thing; when I first began the story, I set the characters, genre, et cetera, for the entire trilogy, Episodes IV-VI. I didn't know it would be this long, though, and I'm wondering; should I separate the three movies into different stories or keep it all in the same fic? If I separate it, I'd have to change a couple of its classifications, but everything it already says will come up in the next movie, or in the time in between. Anyway, I just wanted to know your thoughts. Should I separate it?

Thanks for reviewing, following, and favoriting! Have a nice day.


	12. Chapter 12

Hi! I've taken a bit longer for this chapter, mainly because of final exams rearing their ugly heads :/ That probably means that I'll take a bit more time to update, because my top priority is my future, not on fan fiction, and the teachers aren't exactly conservative on the amount of homework they assign. Just a warning, though; some days I'll write a lot, some I'll write very little.

Also, this chapter feels a bit choppy, even to me. Whether that's just because I'm used to writing from one POV fluently or not, I don't know, or if this would just be portrayed better on film or something, but I do switch from scene to scene, POV to POV rather quickly. Any narration that isn't from Holly's point of view is third person omniscient for convenience.

Also also, I must give a heap of thanks to Sardhrantor, who pointed out that I'd been starving Holly for a while now. I'm a terrible person, not realizing it, and I feel immensely stupid for forgetting it, so the advice that Sardhrantor gave was invaluable! I've gone back and added something to chapter five. You don't have to read it if you don't want to-basically, she just eats some really nasty alien food. That's all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, obviously. I wouldn't ever be able to pull of something like that.

Chapter 12:

The voice of the officer sounded as though it were transmitted through an old 1960's radio as he spoke. "We've ascertained a refugee hiding in an air vent."

Holly wasn't surprised; through a helmet that thick, the man inside the armor probably wouldn't be heard at all. Hell, it must have nearly been as thick as his skull! Truthfully, she didn't know if this man suffered from cretinism or not, Holly just enjoyed insulting people who caused her trouble, and she'd hazard a guess to say that she was in pretty big trouble now.

"Good work," praised his commander, speaking through a radio as well, though she could tell that the sound was coming from a different source, some other transmitter. To her, they both sounded nearly identical. She wondered, perhaps, was this because of the radio transmission, or did they all adopt the same manner of speaking? It must have been a military thing; one drill sergeant sounded indistinguishable from the next, for example. (At least, they did in the movies.) "Is it one of the spotted?"

"Undoubtedly," affirmed the trooper. He nudged Holly rudely and harshly in her shoulder with his gunpoint, herding her through the corridors of the _Millennium Falcon_.

She cowered forward, striding on wobbly knees with her proverbial tail between her legs. She blanched, feeling the threatening metal against her tensed shoulder blades. Holly was certain that she could feel how cold it was, even through the three layers of clothing she wore.

"It's the young woman who was reported to be with the others at Mos Eisley," he continued, striding behind her, loud and prideful as his footfalls brought sharp clasps of terror jolting down her spine. Holly shivered involuntarily every time she slacked, for when her speed decelerated even by the smallest amount, the gun jabbed into her back once more.

"Were there any others?"

"Negative, sir," he reported. "The scanners turned up none other than her in the entire ship."

Holly struggled to suppress a sigh of relief, despite her dire situation; at least Han, Luke, and the others were safe. For the moment, at least. She would not have wanted her friends to suffer the same fate she would undoubtedly face, because although she was never the nicest person around, she did have _some_ heart. And, over the past few days, Holly had to admit she had grown to care for her companions a surprisingly large amount.

She supposed it was just what happened when one is lost, found, saved (a bit—technically), lost again, then executed.

"Take her to the detention cells," commanded the officer.

"Affirmative."

Holly was directed by the gun to turn left, and she noticed the entrance was before them. They were leaving the _Falcon,_ and she found, unsurprisingly, that she did not want to leave. It had been, perhaps, her only safe haven in this trash that was an existence, the only place she had known to be comforting in the slightest. The two of them reached the ramp, and Holly could not help but gasp when she saw what lay beyond.

The ship was in a huge docking bay. This was no exaggeration; being so close had, perhaps, changed exactly how she perceived this space station. Before, it had loomed in the distance as a very real and tangible threat, sort of like Cold War Russia. Now, however, it was personal; right there in front of her, it invaded her space and presently terrorized her by simply being. The lines of troops, each sporting weapons that could blow her brains out by the mere twitch of a finger, made Holly think that these were now more the Orcs to her Helm's Deep, or the Death Eaters to her mudbloods, rather than a distant threat.

She was within the enemy territory, completely defenseless with Death himself undoubtedly planning her imminent doom.

42.

(Begin third person omniscient.)

The heavy metal door slammed quickly shut behind Luke once he had run through the threshold into their temporary safe haven. The young man tugged off his helmet with fervor, shaking his head to get the blond hair out of his eyes. "You know," he snapped, "with his howling and your blasting everything in sight, it's a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here!"

The man towards whom the chide was directed didn't look ashamed, as Luke undoubtedly would, had their positions been swapped. Instead, it only served to rally Han's enthusiasm, and Luke couldn't say he was particularly surprised. "Bring 'em on! I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around!"

"Oh, yeah?" questioned Luke, approaching him with a glare in his eye "And what about Holly? What'll happen to her when they find out the ship wasn't deserted because we're obviously here shooting everything in sight?!" He added that last for Han's benefit. "They'll re-search the ship and she's bound to be found!"

Han merely scoffed. "She's fine," he dismissed, waving a hand. "Trust me."

"Well, how do you know?" he demanded. It didn't seem that safe, just leaving her there, without any way to reliably protect herself. Luke doubted that she was an expert in disarming Stormtroopers, ill prepared as they were, and he was, quite frankly, very worried for her.

"Look, Kid," Han said, swiveling around to give him a pointed stare. "Do you really think she'd do something foolish or obnoxious?"

"Honestly? Yes."

"What a high opinion you have of her," he drawled.

"Oh, come on! You can't possibly say that she's safe at all! Running off to chase that stupid bug…." He trailed off in a grumble. He didn't seem too eager to contribute to their argument. If only she hadn't left the group, Holly would be there with them. "How could you know that she isn't lying dead now with a blaster shot to her heart?"He glanced at Old Ben for help, but he didn't seem too eager to contribute to their argument, merely content with watching with slight amusement. Luke was incredulous.

"I told her to hide," the smuggler before him pointed out. "She's not completely stupid; Holly wouldn't jump out and wave some blinking flag." Han saw the look of incredulity in Luke's eyes, the obvious 'seriously?' glance written all over his face. "The _Falcon_ 's a freighter; I wouldn't be flyin' it if it didn't have good hiding spots. We just got the best—she got second."

Outwardly, Han was calm. He was good at that, keeping a stoic expression. He had to be; running into officials and lying wouldn't do him any good if he could be read like a transmission. He had to be the best at bluffing, and that gave him enough practice not to be as worried as Luke now.

Inwardly, his mind rushed; what were the possibilities of Holly's discovery? It was only for Luke's benefit that he put on the false front. Han didn't know if it were easier or harder, thinking with this disguise, but he couldn't dwell on that.

To be perfectly honest, he really didn't know what they'd do to her. One of the things that worried him most was the unpredictability of anything that Holly did—she didn't know _anything_ about the way this place was run, and even if she did, Han doubted that she would be able to talk or fight her way out of an Imperial encounter.

"Yeah, but what if second isn't good enough?"

"It'll have to be," Han drilled.

Han wished that he could reassure Luke—not to mention himself—that she wouldn't be found and executed. However, as he looked at the young farm boy, who just ran a hand through his hair instead of replying, his hopes weren't too high.

"We found the computer outlet, sir," the electronic voice of the protocol droid reached their ears, and all of them turned to look at him. He and R2 were stationed at the panels, analyzing the layout of the ship.

"Plug in," Obi-Wan ordered. "He should be able to interpret the entire Imperial computer network."

"The whole thing?" Luke asked in amazement, but before he could go on, R2 interrupted.

"He says he's found the main computer to power the tractor beam that's holding the ship here. He'll make the precise location appear on the monitor," translated 3PO.

The computer screen above them flickered as it projected the layout of the Death Star. Luke watched with interest as the viewpoint changed, focusing on one aspect that must have been the tractor beam. "The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations," continued the droid. "A power loss at one of the terminals would allow the ship to leave."

Ben studied the layout intently, focused on memorizing every useful detail. It could be done, with the proper ability….ability that only he had, as of yet. "I don't think you boys can help," he said, glancing back to Luke and Han.

"Whatever you say," Han agreed easily. "I've done more than I bargained for on this trip already."

Luke didn't think along the same lines. "I want to go with you!" he protested, eager to get out of the control room and take action. He felt like he would just be….vegetating, maybe, if he just stayed here.

"Be patient, Luke; stay and watch over the droids."

"But he can—"

"They must be delivered safely or other star systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan," Old Ben reasoned. Luke was still reluctant to stay, reluctant to be useless. "Your destiny lies along a different path than mine. The Force will be with you….always!"

42.

The corridors were dark and sinister. It was a common theme that Holly seemed to find on the station; red and black were most often used when there was something that didn't have to be multi-colored and blinking. Usually, Holly had no aversion to those hues; now, however, she had a sharp dislike to the specific combination.

Now, could that have anything to do with the blaster pointed at her back?

Nah, impossible.

The trooper's methodical walking hadn't shifted one bit. Holly found herself breathing at every other footfall; it was like a monometer for each sharp intake. She didn't want to step out of line, she supposed, and irregular breathing might evoke an…unwanted response.

Basically, she tried to make herself as unnoticed as possible, despite the fact that she stood literally _right in front of him_.

Her hands were bound before her with a thin but strong bronze band, not exactly like the handcuffs of home, but similar. They were definitely less breakable; it didn't use a key to unlock, no—that would be too easy to escape from. Rather, Holly assumed it must have needed a laser for how impenetrable it seemed.

"Cell block BC-38," reported the trooper, as if she cared. He had been narrating their actions, it seemed, along their long and winding road to her death. In the elevators (Holly had called them turbo lifts in her head), he had articulated the floor of their destination, but for the life of her, Holly couldn't remember what that was. Then, when they strode down even more extensive hallways, he seemed hell bent on naming the exact title of the corridor as soon as they turned the corner.

It didn't help Holly to know where she was; all that mattered was that she was too far away from where she wanted to be (aka, her bed, in her bedroom, in her house, in America, on Earth, a long time from now in a galaxy far, far away).

They stopped in front of a wall. That was what Holly thought it was, at least; there seemed to be nothing different about this smooth sheet of metal, set in between two support beams. The only thing that set it apart from the others was a small blinking keypad on one side, set high enough to be eyelevel with the Stormtrooper.

The man's gloved and armored hand rose and activated the keypad with a series of movements that Holly couldn't quite catch. They were habitual, like unlocking a phone or logging in to one's email. That made Holly wonder….if this trooper could unlock something with just familiarity and speed, did that mean that they were used to capturing prisoners? She didn't suppose it was unlikely; this seemed like a pretty routine activity.

That didn't make it better.

"Get inside," ordered the trooper once the doors had opened. The room within was revealed to be nothing less than what she had expected—it was basically a perfectly hollow cube, save for one raised rectangular box near the wall that functioned as a rudimentary bed and a slightly angled wall segment above that. Basically, it was a perfectly hollow irregular octahedron. "Hurry!" he barked.

Holly stumbled forward on numb feet, fearing the solidly dark grey-black walls. She didn't like waiting for any length of time, ad ironically though it was, she certainly didn't like waiting now. She wondered if most people were eager to postpone what would undoubtedly be their death for as long as possible, but the only answer Holly came up with was that if those people existed, she wasn't one of them.

The trooper took something from his belt—it had been clipped on, though Holly didn't take the time to try and guess what it was. Something she'd probably never heard of, no doubt. He raised it to her cuffs and pressed a button, causing a harsh red light to emit from its point, shining on the bronze of the electronic bindings like a laser. They snapped open, and a harsh shove from the trooper caused her to stagger back into the cell.

The door slammed shut behind her once she was beyond the threshold. Holly stared at it, but the door was now a slight decrease in the surface of the wall, a minimal alcove with wiring along the sides. She assumed that there would have been paneling there, but they must not have wanted to waste resources on mere prisoners.

Figures. She wasn't just useless to herself and her friends anymore, but to the enemy as well.

Holly didn't sit on the 'bed' structure. Using anything for its intended purpose seemed like she was accepting her fate too readily; it was too tall for her to sit on with feet firmly planted on the ground, for one thing, and she wasn't tired enough to go to sleep either.

She merely slid down into the corner. She liked corners; the closed-in parts of rooms made her feet safest, as if the sides she touched were just a few more directions from which dangers couldn't come. Holly sat on the ground and tucked her knees underneath her chin, hugging her legs to her chest.

Her knuckles were white with how tightly she clenched her hands. She preferred that to shaking with fear, at the very least.

42.

The beeping of the short R2 unit over near the computers drew Luke out of his contemplative reverie. His head shot up as he swiftly made his way over to the droid, next to whom stood golden 3PO. "What is it?" he questioned.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure, sir," the droid replied. "He keeps repeating 'he's found them' and 'they're here.'"

"Well…." What did 3PO mean? "Who? Who has he found?"

"Capt-Holly and Princess Leia, sir." Luke noted the minor slip up. They were helping someone who had lied blatantly when she first met them, but now, it didn't really seem to matter that much. He just wanted his friend back and to rescue that princess.

42.

Holly's limbs were beginning to stiffen. She hadn't moved much since first she lowered herself to the floor, save for a few minor shifts in position or posture. Her muscles felt like they were solidifying more and more, moment by moment. She just pictured the blood in her veins and arteries stilling until they were completely motionless, coagulating underneath her skin. Her body would turn slowly to stone, and that lead to a grimly satisfying thought: maybe, if the Empire came to retrieve her, they would find that she was rock solid and immobile, they'd just leave her there. Shooting a statue would be pointless.

But she wasn't a statue. The loss of feeling that she had attributed to solidification in her sudden flair for dramatic simile turned out to just be her legs falling asleep.

Holly straightened her legs until they were flat as a board. Her black jeans were dirty now, stained with sand and grease that must have been from the ventilation shaft. Her hoodie had brown splotches on the front as well, where she had laid on her stomach. She was disgusting, filthy. Her hair and face couldn't have been much better. Regardless, the only thing that surprised her was the fact that she hadn't had to stop and tie her shoes once.

42.

"Terminated?!" Luke demanded incredulously. "Oh, no! We've got to do something! What about Holly? Does it say anything about her?"

"Just that she's been captured, master Luke," responded C-3PO. "It doesn't give her location, sir, or what her fate is to be. Apologies."

"What's going on?" asked Han. He obviously hadn't been listening like Luke had.

"The princess! This droid belongs to her. We've got to help her, get him back to her. And bust Holly out as well!"

Han dropped his mask of nonchalance and composure. His face shifted, eyes growing worried—though it was a slight difference, Luke noticed. "What?!" he exclaimed, jumping up from the chair upon which he had just been lounging without a care. "She—Holly was…."

Luke's face changed as well, yet his expression wasn't one of surprise and alarm. Rather, his eyes grew defiant and furious. "Yes! Of course! I told you she'd be captured! You wouldn't listen—you were just too prideful and—"

"Prideful? Me?" Han shot back. "You were so sure that—"

"Well, so were you!" he interrupted, not even listening to what Han was going to say. "Quite hypocritical of you, really—"

3PO turned to R2 beside him. If his metal face could shift, he would surely have worn an exasperated expression. "I'm only grateful that we don't argue like that, R2," he commented.

The R2 unit beeped.

"We do not!" Protested his companion. "Their exchange is ridiculous. They're both too prideful. My ability, on the other hand, is backed up with proof."

He beeped again.

"What do you mean, 'What proof'?!"

Chewie just sighed. Xenon wasn't there for him to argue with.

42.

There was a shifting in Holly's pocket. Specifically, the one into which she had slid Xenon. Oh, she hadn't forgotten about him, of course; Holly was merely giving him the silent treatment. This wasn't really the wisest nor most mature course of action, considering her impending extermination, but she couldn't help it. She was seventeen, after all.

Finally, she caved and removed him from his prison. She set him venomously upon the floor beside her, shooting him a glare that she hoped would penetrate his metal shell and burn right into his cybernetic soul. "What do you want, bug?" she deadpanned.

As one can probably tell, she wasn't too happy with him.

He took a moment to activate, but once he did, the spider droid took his time pacing. Circling the room, walking in lines, forming triangles, hexagons, squares, and dodecagons at random. Either that, or he was just wandering and Holly made shapes out of his path. Either way, it took her mind out of its grim mood.

If only he hadn't jumped off her shoulder. Why would he ever think that that was a good idea? Holly hadn't expected him to do something so obviously stupid. It wasn't something she would do….

 _No,_ scolded an elderly, Dumbledore-ish voice, _but you would just as eagerly follow after someone so obviously stupid. So, really, what's more telling, that you wouldn't think to do something or just following in someone else's footsteps?_

It sounded like Obi-Wan. Again. Oh, why had her conscious adopted his voice? It made her want to follow its advice more, she whined to herself, and although it was the right thing to do, it wasn't the easiest.

Holly was so lazy when she was sullen.

She found herself trying to make excuses. Well, she considered, she couldn't very well have let him roam free back there. He'd have gotten caught or something.

That train of thought brought her back to where she was now, and Holly knew that it was foolish to try to justify her actions, so she gave up the process. Still, if the stupid Lock Pick hadn't gone anywhere, she'd still be with the rest of them….

Wait a second.

Lock Pick.

 _"Your droid; they were called 'Lock Picks' soon after their creation, named after the ease with which they can crawl into locking systems."_

Obi-Wan had said that to her on the first day that she met him, right before they left Tatooine. He had recognized her droid for what he was—and it really hadn't mattered either way to her. It hadn't mattered then, at least; now, however….

"Hey, Xenon, buddy," Holly said, turning her voice sweet and kind. He halted in his pacing and turned to her, little electronic head tilted to the side. "Well, I'm sorry for being mad at you," she began, though she really wasn't. "But is there something you could do for me?"

He looked at her expectantly.

"It'll help you too, of course," she said as means of persuasion. Holly didn't know if she'd really need to _persuade_ him, but she wasn't sure if he was mad, as well. "I have to ask you to sneak into those wires," she pointed to the wiring next to the door. "And find a way to the control panel for the door. To unlock it."

Holly watched as he turned to the door, then back at her, then to the door again. The next thing she knew, he wasn't there—he had shot off, zooming across the smooth shining floor swifter than her eyes could follow him. He disappeared into the array of wires surrounding the door—he hadn't really needed any persuasion, it seemed. He wanted out as much as Holly did.

It was quite arrogant, Holly thought, of the Empire to assume that leaving any area of wires exposed would be safe for them. They must have only taken into account the instance in which their prisoner would take out their rage upon the wires, clawing and ripping them out like vines. In that case, the door would be jammed, and they wouldn't care. But to completely ignore the possibility that someone could bypass the security system by this obviously gaping hole….that was just plain presumptuous.

Really, was there no one who could say, 'Hey, you might want to cover that huge hole. You know, someone might just be able to infiltrate it'? Holly knew perfectly well, however, that most people, unfortunately, didn't pay enough attention to detail. They were probably too busy protecting the main reactor or something really important like that.

42.

"She's rich," urged Luke. "If we get both of them, you'd get your friend back _and_ loads of money."

"Holly isn't my friend," Han denied feebly and unbelievably. "I'm just too chivalrous to leave her, that's all." At Luke's doubtful raised eyebrows, he gave up lying. "Oh, fine. I'll save a friend, but I won't waste time on some _Princess_ from an arbitrary _neutral_ planet." Then he paused. "But….how rich?"

Luke saw his opportunity and took it. "She's rich and powerful, being a princess and all. Listen, if you were to rescue her along with Holly, the reward would be…." He trailed off.

"The reward would be what?"

"Well…." Luke grasped for straws. "Well, more wealth than you could imagine!"

"I don't know; I can imagine quite a bit!"

"You'll get it!" promised Luke.

"I'd better."

"You will," he assured desperately.

"All right, kid," Han gave in. "You'd better be right about this. But I swear, if this Princess of yours stops us from finding Holly again, you'll both be sorry."

Luke allowed a small smirk to make its way onto his face. "Not friends indeed," he chuckled to himself. Then he wondered, were he and Holly friends? Technically, he had known her longer, if that mattered. But Han had spoken to her longer….he had actually _known_ her. He wasn't even sure if that made Han and Holly friends, because it certainly seemed to him that they hated each other earlier.

But Luke and Holly hadn't argued like the two of them had. Did that mean they'd be better friends, or worse? He didn't dwell on that thought, however, once Han asked, "Well, what's your plan, kid?"

"Uh…." Luke glanced around. How would they all get safely from this point to the detention cells? Han and Luke would manage, having the gear and all….but he wasn't oblivious to the fact that Chewie wouldn't exactly fit in Stormtrooper armor, even if they had another set. "3PO, hand me those binders, will you?"

The 'binders' were cuffs not unlike those worn by Holly earlier; bronze, without a hinge or lock—and Luke crossed over to the Wookiee warily. "Okay," he said as he approached. "I'm going to put these on you—"

Luke halted abruptly when Chewbacca let out a long, murderous growl and backed away. "Okay, Han, y-you put these on," he stuttered slightly, shoving the binders at the smuggler, who seemed to appraise Luke with a gauging glance.

"Don't worry, Chewie," Han said, not entirely sure that the Wookie wouldn't rip _his own_ arms out as he fastened the cuffs onto his wrists. "I think I know what he has in mind."

Luke nodded. "Er, yeah—well, 3PO, are you _absolutely certain_ that nobody has entered in anything on Holly?" He turned to the aforementioned droid, who was still surveying the information. "Has anything been added or changed?"

After a moment of silence, the droid finally answered. "Well, sir, it does give a cell number now," he said. "But it does not specify what her fate is to be."

"That doesn't matter," Han stated, standing. "They're both in the detention cell, and we'll have to get to _both_ of them before _either_ is terminated."

"Han's right. We just need to get there—they'll stand no chance of death once we arrive." Han wasn't the only one who rolled his eyes at the boy's arrogance; Chewbacca sent him a sidelong glance and R2 silently chided him for his stupidity. Luke was impervious to this, however, being a teenager; that's what teenagers do. "What's her cell?"

"BC-38." C-3PO could only watch as the two men picked up the stolen guns and, followed by the Wookiee, made for the door. "Master Luke, sir! Pardon me for asking, but….ah….what shall R2 and I do if we're found?" he asked nervously.

"Lock the door," replied Luke airily, as if it didn't matter either way.

"And hope they don't have blasters." Han's comment did nothing to lessen his tension.

"That isn't very reassuring."

42.

Holly had been waiting for far too long. Every so often, she could hear the clicking or snapping of Xenon changing, moving around, or otherwise altering the configuration of the wires. She didn't even know if it actually did take that long; all she could do was sit there, however, and that drew it out infinitely.

However, after what could have been a minute, half an hour, half a day, or half a year, something finally clicked. Not in Holly's mind, as the phrase usually implies; rather, something _literally_ clicked. It wasn't as close to the door as she would have thought, but rather, somewhere in the middle of the wall, which she wouldn't have ever guessed to be hollow.

She could hear the excited chirping that she had come to associate with Xenon, and followed the sound as he raced through the wall and to the door. She heard him pause there, and roughly, she smashed the two pieces of her glasses onto her face as she approached the wiring.

Xenon emerged, gloating. Holly wasn't sure how she could tell, but it was obvious that he was proud of the work he had done. Usually, Holly would have sent him a playfully chiding glare, but she was too eager now; staring at the door anxiously, she waited to see if he was successful.

She didn't have to wait long; the time for sitting idly was, after far too much time, over. Her face lit up in a grin when the mechanical door slid swiftly open.

Discarding one half of her glasses into her pocket, she swept Xenon off of the floor and held him lovingly in her palm. "Oh, Xenon," she whispered. "Thank you _so_ much! I'm sorry I was mad at you; you're brilliant!" Her praise didn't belittle his ego, but for once, she didn't care.

Slowly and deliberately, she peeked out of the cell. Turning her head left and right carefully, so as not to attract the attention of any scanners, soldiers on patrol, or the like, Holly deemed the coast to be clear.

Holly took a deep breath and strode out of the cell.

42.

So,what'd you guys think? It's wonderful to hear from all of you! And to the reviewers of the last chapter:

Sardhrantor: Again, thanks for the food advice. I've taken your opinion on whether it should be separated into account; I'm still considering.

Himeno Kazehito: Thanks for your review! Yeah, that was one of the many factors I have to consider. And, don't worry; you'll find out why Xenon did that...maybe not now, but you will.

myharlequinromance321: Thank you! I'm not the most experienced with writing the climax of a story, since I usually write the beginning and give up, but I'm glad to see you like the rising action. And, yeah, it does seem easier, but I'm worried about it growing to be _too_ large, with all the movies. Anyway, thanks!

EGGS: I appreciate the review, and telling me what you guys are wondering about, what you want to know. Thank you!

Missanonne: Glad you like it :) You guys all seem to be wondering the same thing, by the way, which is addressed below. No real spoilers, just a hint. Thank you for reviewing!

ATTENTION: Since most of you asked this question, I'm not going to answer it, but I'm going to tell you when you'll get the answer, so you won't be disappointed. You'll find out why Xenon ran off during the time between Episode IV and Episode V-I'm going to write some scenes during that three year duration, because a lot does happen, including solving this mystery. I just didn't want you guys to think that I've forgotten it when it's not solved by the Battle of Yavin or anything.

As for the question I asked last time, I've gotten one vote saying I should separate it from a reviewer, and two in favor of it being the same fic. I've been discussing the pros and cons with myself and others and, hopefully, I'll have an answer by next time.

Have a nice day; I hope you liked the chapter! Review, follow, favorite, if you so choose-and thanks to all of you who already have :)


	13. Chapter 13

Hello! So, _so_ sorry about the time it took to get this chapter done. Truth was, I wrote it, but just kept writing. It got very rambling, and it was going to be much longer, but I abridged it a bit so it wasn't huge. And, I'm sorry to most of you, because you seem to be anxiously awaiting Holly's reaction to Darth Vader-I'm afraid, however, that you won't know until next chapter, but you _will_ know by then.

Anyway, happy reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, I'm just borrowing it for my entertainment.

Chapter 13:

It would have been ideal to say that the corridors were clear of uniformed officers patrolling the prisoner's cells, that there was no-one who could recapture Holly as she tried to sneak past. It would have been ideal to say that she ran through the ship without trouble, with nothing to stand in her way.

Of course, nothing was particularly ideal here. If it were, she wouldn't even _be_ here, in this bizarre universe, let alone captured by the Enemy. Truth was, Holly didn't _know_ what waited beyond, with nothing to turn to for reference. She was wading forward completely blind now.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins as Holly exited the cell was exhilarating, and perhaps she would have relished in it were it safer for her to pause and consider anything closely. Anything not completely pertinent to the task at hand, however, was unwelcome in her mind.

The adrenaline did not give her arrogance or stupidity, however, as she had enough common sense not to storm through this wretched space station at the speed of sound in search of the _Millennium Falcon_. She wasn't even sure if she could locate it, really, but Holly wouldn't be able to live with herself knowing she hadn't tried.

Though she wouldn't have even gotten the chance to live with herself if she stayed idle, the thought still motivated her.

Holly set Xenon tentatively on the ground, trying to avoid any unnecessary noise. The barely audible tapping of his eight feet on the metal plating made her flinch as it was. She lowered her head to the ground and whispered to Xenon as quietly as she could.

" _Carefully go around that corner_ ," she pointed ahead of her to the junction where the passageway branched off. " _Tell me if it's clear, and be quiet!_ "

He scurried off as quietly as he could while still maintaining an appropriate speed. It was an awkward shuffle, but it got the job done—albeit slowly.

The corridor was long and straight, dark red and black. There were a few junctions—those seemed safer to Holly than merely striding down the main hallway. This place seemed like the ideal location for round of security guards, and Holly wanted nothing more than to make herself scarce as soon as possible.

Xenon returned after twenty-seven seconds—yes, Holly had been counting—and beckoned to the corner. She took that to mean, 'affirmative, the corridor's clear.'

Upon reaching that little branch, she noted that 'corridor' was probably not the correct term for it. It was much smaller than the main passage, much narrower and merely rectangular instead of shaped as the other corridor had been. Holly decided that she liked the look of this much more than the previous; there was less hiding space, yes, but it seemed more like a brief pathway to a utility closet rather than something that a night guard would loyally patrol.

She slid in, taking slow and careful footsteps. Her navy blue sneakers were not particularly loud, but they certainly had the potential to be when one did not take proper precautions. Holly let Xenon race ahead of her as they both made their way through the darkly lit hallway.

Eventually, they came across a door. It wasn't fancy; at least, it wasn't by Holly's standards. It didn't seem as sturdy as those blocking the detention cells, but at least it was more than the hanging rags that had been the privacy for the Dreary Dug. Next to the door was, unsurprisingly, a panel.

" _Hey, Xenon_ ," Holly whispered as she let him crawl into her hand. " _Can you open this door? If the room's empty, of course_." His agreeing response was almost immediate. She nodded, raising her hand to the panel, letting him crawl carefully onto it.

She kept her hand there in case he fell—while it didn't seem likely, it had to be possible. Her eyes shot continually from him to each end of the hall, keeping a steady watch for anything coming their way while her ears strained to hear any approaching footfalls.

What Xenon was doing soon captivated her attention. He seemed to be prying the panel off the wall, opening a small gap into which he slipped. The movements were quick and precise, though Holly was amazed that the little bug wasn't making even more noise.

Soon, the doors slid open. Holly smirked; Xenon was _very_ useful. She remembered what Xenon had done to get them into this mess in the first place, but in light of it all, it really didn't seem to matter that much. Holly was just too eager to get out of this place.

Of course, she didn't know exactly _how_ she'd get out, but she had to start somewhere.

Before her was a utility closet. That's what Holly assumed it was, at least—there were many remarkably un-science fiction-y shelves piled high with grey cloth, something that Holly would have never expected in a place like this. There was also a computer terminal, though it looked less…complete? It wasn't as neat as the others that Holly had seen when she passed them on her way to her cell. It reminded her oddly of an old Fallout terminal.

The door slid shut behind them. "Xenon, lock it," Holly requested. "I don't want anyone barging in unannounced." She wasn't whispering as lowly anymore, though her tone was still quiet.

Holly scanned the room further. There was a sheet of smooth, reflective metal spanning one wall, next to the shelves, and a space in between the shelves and terminal lead to the conclusion that there was something beyond it—it had an indent akin to a door, yet still different. Holly tilted her head as she considered it, though she didn't want to approach it yet. Something unwanted may be waiting beyond.

Xenon came scurrying back. "Is anyone around us?" she questioned. "Is the coast clear?"

Using this special, adventure-type terminology made her feel officially fictional. She and Clare had used terms like "the coast is clear" when they snuck around school into the library before the bell rang. Now, Holly used the term while trying to evade threatening evil military officers.

Times did change indeed.

Xenon chirped in affirmative and crawled onto her shoulder. She shot him a quick glance before hurrying towards the packed shelves.

"Are these uniforms?" she asked no-one in particular.

No-one in particular answered her.

She reached up and withdrew one pile of clothing slowly. It was grey, almost black, and stiff—uncomfortably so. They were perhaps the last thing Holly would voluntarily wear, besides perhaps a swimsuit. However, they seemed to be a goldmine now.

"Oh, Xenon, this is great!" she exclaimed, her voice still level. "Will you look at these—I could go anywhere in this stuff!"

Of course, she was exaggerating. But….Her Science Officer-blue hoodie and pants didn't exactly blend in. She wouldn't be able to walk somewhere….noticeable, but maybe she could blend into the crowd. Look like just another face.

But then she thought….Holly hadn't seen any women on her way over here. Not that she had been looking, of course, because it really hadn't mattered, then, what gender her captors were. In retrospect, though, every officer, guard, and trooper had been, as far as Holly could see, men.

She held one suit up and considered it closely. Holly wasn't shaped as exaggeratedly as some girls and women were—her waste wasn't tiny, her hips weren't so rounded, and she wasn't as buxom. Glancing at the reflective surface of the metal wall, Holly figured that if she slouched a bit, letting her shoulders sag, she'd look at least like a scrawny man.

However, Holly pulled off her hoodie and tied it around her middle for good measure—it would make her look more flat-chested. She pulled on the uniform and analyzed her appearance once more. Her shoes were hidden by the pants, which she just slid on over her jeans. They were a bit baggy, so she had just tucked them into her jeans and let the shirt fall over it. With the belt tied loosely around her middle, she just looked like a short fat man.

With long hair. That'd have to go.

The elastic that she'd tied had nearly fallen out. She re-secured it in her hair at the top of her head, then slid that weird dome-like helmet over it. Holly was so lucky that she had found just the right room with just the right materials—though she couldn't have been in Greg (was that his first name? She couldn't remember) Lucas's original story, she certainly had all the luck of a movie character.

Holly made a mental note to thank the evil author of her own story for this one bout of convenience.

She turned to Xenon. "So, how do I look?"

His head seemed to shake in dislike or disgust. Holly nodded. "Yeah, it's hideous," she remarked. "But this is only in case I get caught—someone may glance quickly and just dismiss me as a peasant who works here," she said. Before stowing away her broken glasses permanently, Holly slid one half up to her eye and eyed her reflection again.

To anyone who looked for any period of time, something was wrong with her as a man—but hopefully, nobody would do that.

42.

"We've got to find out which cells Holly and this princess of yours are in," Han said. The smell of smoke pervaded the room, emanating from the numerous spots on the walls where blaster shots had been fired—they were really lucky the Stormtroopers were such horrible shots. "There they are….Holly's is cell twenty-one nine-three, and _her majesty's_ is eight-seven, same corridor. You get them—I'll hold the troopers here," he ordered.

Luke, similarly garbed in the Stormtrooper armor as Han was, scurried down the hallway. He moved awkwardly, trying to hurry in the bizarre suit. Han rolled his eyes and turned to the comlink in front of him.

"Everything is under control," he reported. "Situation normal." Han fought to keep his tone level, despite his growing anxiety.

"What happened?" questioned the man on the other side.

Han tried to pull off the lie. "Uh….had a slight weapons malfunction. But, uh, everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here, now, thank you." It was going downhill quickly and Han was growing nervous. "How are you?" The minute that statement left his mouth, he cringed. They were all positively doomed.

He wasn't the only one who noticed his obvious mistake. "We're sending a team up," the exasperated voice said.

"Uh….Uh, negative," he tried to deflect. "We had a reactor leak here, now….Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak, very dangerous." Oh, he could see it: he was digging his grave ever deeper….

"Who is this? What's your operating number?"

Then, Han's gravedigger decided that he didn't want to be oppressed by all the dirt that was way above his head. He wouldn't take it. Han blasted the comlink.

"Boring conversation anyway," he remarked. Now that nobody was listening, he wasn't as nervous. "Luke! We're going to have company!"

42.

Luke stared at the open door in wonder.

It looked like a perfectly average cell—minus the door being open, of course—in that there were no obvious signs of damage. The blond farm boy just stood there for ten seconds too long—down the corridor he heard Han shout for him to hurry up.

Luke glanced up to the address above the cell door—it was right. He was in the right place; this was Holly's cell. Only….there was no Holly.

He stepped into the cell. Maybe his helmet was constricting his view; maybe she was in the corner or something. He knew that the notion was ridiculous—why would she hide in the corner when the door to her prison had been open? Of course, this was the girl who rode a sandcrawler out of the middle of the Dune Sea….nothing she did seemed to be the smartest idea to Luke.

He would have stepped on it if he hadn't happened to look down at exactly that moment. Right next to his foot was one half of those strange contraptions that Holly held to her face—those _glasses_. He remembered something about focusing a retina….everything that had happened then seemed like a blur, for he had still been wallowing in the grief of losing his aunt and uncle, so he couldn't quite bring the rest of what she said about these 'glasses' to the front of his mind.

He bent to pick them up. The dark framework looked too fragile to be of any use—it bent so willingly! Where the glass part met the rest of it, there was a wobbly hinge. How could someone wear these things for any longer than half a day without them breaking? If the timeline that Holly had told them had been correct, these object were far beyond their prime.

They just looked ridiculous.

But, they also meant something—it meant that, although the cell was vacant with the door wide open, there _had_ been a prisoner held here, and that prisoner _had_ been Holly.

But where was she?

42.

Holly leaned closer to the terminal. The screen lit up in dark green and yellow lines—Xenon was jamming away on the controls, making his movements very similar to a mix between Holly's atrocious dancing skills and the game Twister.

In front of her was displayed a map—she could make more sense of it now once the movements of the lines slowed. Xenon's weird dance halted as well—he crawled up the side of the terminal so as to reach the screen.

"So, where's the _Falcon_?" she questioned. "Can I get there from here?"

Xenon considered the map closely. Then he extended one leg as if it were a pointer finger, indicating one particular line. He then began to trace it up the screen slowly, following the path as it turned corners and wound around. He stopped in a large square—that must have been the hanger in which the _Falcon_ had landed.

"Nice." Her eyes traced along the path, trying to memorize it. Right, right, left. Turn corner, straight—two lefts and U-turn before taking one last right. Holly could remember that. "But—what is this? A corridor? I don't exactly blend in, even now."

He shook his bionic head.

"Oh, good. So….it's not so crowded. Another air vent?" Holly pondered. Xenon nodded an affirmative. "Oh, great." She wasn't looking forward to that again. "Just wonderful."

Well, at least it was better than parading around in plain sight.

"Do you think we could get caught?" she questioned. "You know, don't answer that." Upon further consideration, the odds of survival were stacked against them, and Holly just found it easier to ignore them.

"It'll be through here, right?" Holly motioned towards the paneling that looked like a smaller door, the one that she had been wary of before. She hardly waited for Xenon to nod before bounding forward and pulling it back.

Ahead of her now was a tunnel similar to the air vents on the _Falcon_ , yet larger in diameter. Holly sighed in relief—she wasn't looking forward to barely squeezing through all the way to the ship.

Taking another long look back at the terminal, Holly tried to memorize every turn once more, though she was sure she already had. The last thing she wanted to do was get lost in this station's maze of corridors and tunnels.

Then there was something interrupting the silence. From beyond one wall was heard the blast from someone's gun—it was so close to this room that, had it been but a little louder, Holly would have screamed in fright. As it was, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

There was an indistinct shouting—the voice was indistinguishable as anybody in particular; it didn't really sound like the radio transmission of one of those soldier's helmets, but she couldn't place it as anyone else's either. The sounds of the battle outside her room continued on, and Holly was very scared that someone would accidentally blow a hole in the wall that was guarding her from them.

Holly gulped and took her last few glances at the terminal, then whispered to Xenon, "Okay, we need to hurry up." He threw her a look that, while non-verbal, clearly stated 'then do so.' "Okay, amendment. _I_ need to hurry up." _So stop talking!_ She told herself.

Holly prepared to depart.

Just as a precaution, Holly fished her glasses out of her pocket. It was hard to reach, being tied around her midriff as it was, but that wasn't the only problem. Holly soon found that she could only find one half of her glasses—the other was gone.

She twirled around quickly, scanning the floor in search of the missing portion. It wasn't there. "Oh, no," she sighed in exasperation. "Don't tell me it's still—don't tell me I left them in the cell!"

Xenon, wisely ad predictably, stayed silent. However, he did make his way for the tunnel. Holly got the message. There was no use mourning over the loss of her glasses now—she had to get out of here.

"Forth the two hunters!" declared Holly, hoisting an imaginary sword in the hand that she proceeded to offer to Xenon, for whom it functioned as a bridge to get to her shoulder.

She crawled into the tunnel.

42.

"Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?"

"What? Oh, the uniform." Luke took off his helmet. He could see the Princess more clearly, now, without the restricting helmet. She was, frankly, beautiful. "I'm Luke Skywalker; I'm here to rescue you."

The beautiful angel still looked apprehensive. "You're who?" She didn't recognize the name 'Skywalker'.

"I'm here to rescue you," he repeated. "I've got your R2 unit and I'm here with Ben Kenobi."

That peaked her interest. She sprung up immediately. "Ben Kenobi! He's here? Where is he?" she demanded in an authoritative voice. _Well, duh,_ thought Luke _. She was a Princess, after all_.

"Come on!" he urged. The two of them fled the cell.

42.

Han rushed down the corridor, still facing the control room. The troopers would soon gain on them, and they would be greatly outnumbered.

He reached Luke and that princess. She stood short and thin, garbed in white robes that were entirely not suited for this type of….adventuring. Han had to admit she was remarkably pretty, with large eyes and red lips—but he couldn't think of that now. "Can't get out that way," he reported, though it was obvious.

"Looks like you managed to cut off out only escape route." The Princess's remark was laced with such a beautiful voice….

"How'd you like it back in your cell, your Highness?" he retorted.

They all backed against the wall—the Stormtroopers were nearing. The sound of blasters as their bolts of energy neared their ears was all they needed to be alert. Luke and Han shot blasts of their own at the troopers, taking down as many as they could while trying to dodge the array of shots pelting them.

"C-3PO!" Luke called into a handheld comlink. It had been attached to his belt next to the other half of Holly's glasses. "C-3PO! We've been cut off! Are there any other ways out of the cell bay?" There was a distorted rumbling, but it was indiscernible. "What was that? I didn't copy."

Luke listened closely to 3PO's reply. Han eyed him for a second before his eyes widened in shock at his sudden realization. "There isn't any other way out!" Luke said, but Han ignored that.

"Wait, Kid, where's Holly?" he demanded.

"I got to—ah—" Luke had to leap back in order to dodge a surprisingly accurate shot. "I got to her cell and it was empty!" he yelled over the sounds of the blasters. "Door was open, not even her droid was there!"

Chewie let out a moan that told Han the Wookiee's grief. Chewbacca didn't really believe they had been killed, but Han could tell that he wouldn't be surprised if any ill end met them. The smuggler knew, however, that Chewie really missed Holly's droid.

"She probably escaped with that Lock Pick!" Han shouted. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but he fooled himself into believing it, at least. "She's probably back at the _Falcon_ now!

"I can't hold off these troopers forever!" he continued. "Now what?!"

"This is some rescue," remarked Princess Leia sarcastically. "When you came in here, didn't you have a plan on getting out?"

Han scoffed. "He's the brains, sweetheart!" he barked, indicating Luke, who immediately felt sheepish for being put on the spot.

"Well I didn't—" Luke didn't have a chance to finish his excuse. His blaster was snatched from his hands by the short woman next to him faster than he could have hoped to stop her.

She blew a hole through the gratings.

Luke just stared in awe. _Wow._ Did this princess really just do that? _She just—she just_ —he stuttered even in his thoughts. He undoubtedly would have made a further silent fool of himself had Han not interrupted.

"What the hell are you doing?" _Her Royal Highness_ had almost fried him!

She crossed the corridor swiftly, sending a few shots along to the troopers as she went. "Somebody has to save our skins! Into the garbage chute, Fly Boy!" Leia tossed the blaster back to a still confused Luke and promptly jumped down the chute.

42.

"Damn!" Holly barked quietly.

They had reached a fork in the road.

Well, actually, they had reached a dead end with gratings, and they were in a chilly air vent, not a road, but the term was at least partially applicable. Holly could now stand, at least, on her hands and knees, instead of flat on her stomach. Xenon fidgeted in front of her.

The ventilation shaft ended abruptly. A little bit ahead to Holly's right were steel gratings, allowing for the passage of a little light. She didn't know what lay beyond those slits, and she didn't want to risk being seen by an undesirable onlooker.

Well, she had made it this far. To expect any more, Holly would have been hoping for too much.

Slowly, she crept forward. If she tried to view it at an angle, those beyond may not see her, if there were indeed any people out there. She couldn't hear anything, though that may have just been because any potential sound was drowned out by the air rushing past her ears, pushing her hair away from her face.

Mustering her courage, Holly was finally close enough to the grating to see the room outside.

It was empty.

" _Xenon_ ," she whispered. " _Can you crawl through—maybe try and see if there's anyone out there?"_ Holly hadn't seen anything, but she did have a rather limited view. She decided be safe rather than dead upon the floor—not merely sorry. You can't really be sorry when you're dead.

He complied. Holly cringed as even she heard the metallic clicks of the droid making his way through the grating; if there was anyone out there to catch them, they would surely be alerted.

Xenon scurried back immediately, motioning towards the grating with his entire insectoid body. " _So it's safe?_ " she cleared. Xenon nodded in what Holly was certain was an exasperated manner.

Holly breathed deeply. _Okay,_ she said to herself. _Nobody will catch you yet. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death—_ Holly was caught off guard by something interrupting her ridiculous Dune mantra that she had only started because she really didn't want to leave the vent, no matter what Xenon said.

 _And procrastination is the opportunity-killer_ , Gandalf's voice rang in her head. But, no, it wasn't Gandalf. It was Obi-Wan.

Oh, why had her conscience have to adopt his voice?

She decided to take the voice's advice, however, as she propped herself up on her elbows and brought her hands to the grating. It didn't budge immediately, mainly because Holly was trying to pull it towards herself when it should have rightly been rushed away. When she finally tried pushing it, she had to lean forward so drastically that, when it finally popped open, not only did she fall forward with it, but it also was sent clattering loudly to the ground.

"Oh, you flipping flamingo!" she gritted out as she tried to withdraw back into the vent. However, she was now bent at the waist, dangling from the vent freely. Holly barely had time to register her situation before she felt herself slide forward, out of the ventilations shaft entirely and tumbling onto the stone cold floor. Head first, might I add.

Holly lay sprawled upon her back, glaring menacingly at the dark ceiling for a moment. From her mouth flooded a stream of made-up profanities along the lines of 'flipping flamingo', grumbled in a low and threatening tone. What exactly Holly was threatening she did not quite know, but it seemed to help long enough for the room to stop spinning.

The still slightly dizzy girl sat up, head throbbing dully. Holly glanced around the room, finding it nearly empty. It was only 'nearly empty' because there was still one thing in the far corner of the room—a table or something; without her glasses, Holly couldn't quite be sure—which she eyed critically before peering at it through her one lens.

There was a closed door at the side of the room, but Holly ignored it. Her head wasn't quite right from being landed on, after all, and she didn't want to leave her newfound temple of solitude quite yet.

Scrambling up, she approached the table. It looked more like a workbench, really, than a table, and the tools laid haphazardly upon its surface enforced the idea. She picked up one of the tools—it resembled strongly a crowbar, smooth and black with a wickedly sharp end. Holly hoisted it into her hands, wielding it as if it were a sword.

Could come in handy.

There were a few metal sheets leaning against the way beside the table. They had holes for screws, Holly assumed, and that lead to the conclusion that someone had been building something here. The room was obviously never finished, for it would have been in use if it had—so the tools and metal sheets weren't too unlikely.

The door slid open with a high-pitched, slow and threatening squeak. Holly froze for merely a moment as the noise slowly dwindled, her back to the door. Once the sound stopped and the only noise in the room was her heart's frantic beating, Holly clenched a fist tightly around the crowbar and spun around on the balls of her feet to brandish her improvised blade in what she hoped was a threatening gesture.

She must've thought that a yell would help her prove her point, for the cry that escaped her lips was one to rival Chewbacca's.

"I must advise you to put that weapon down, my dear," said the grandfatherly voice of Obi-Wan ad he stood in the doorway. "I'd rather not lose consciousness now, of all times."

"Oh my—" Holly's mouth kept moving, but no words came out. Suddenly, she flung herself forward, letting the crowbar fly free as she threw her arms around Obi-Wan in relief. "Obi-Wan! You're here!"

She simply could not believe it. A wickedly happy grin on her face, she waited for his response. "Yes," he replied. "It would appear that I am."

"But—well, I'm glad you're here, certainly," she stuttered. "But where….I mean, _why_ are you here? How'd you find me? Are Luke and Han okay? And the droids? _What in the realm of fiction is going on?!_ " He waited patiently for her rambling to come to a stop.

"Holly, please ask one question at a time," he chuckled at the many questions she had fired off. "More slowly, this time."

Holly sighed and let go of him. "What are you doing here?" she asked, careful to be clear in her query this time.

"Your Lock Pick over there ran off." Obi-Wan nodded towards the little droid, who had scurried closer to them. "After you chased after it, we hid in the smuggling compartments that Han Solo had near the exit."

"I knew all that already," she pressed. "But why aren't you still there?"

"Well, we couldn't very well stay there forever, could we?" he chuckled again. "There was a tractor beam hold on our ship. I have disabled it."

"You just snuck around this station?" she gaped in disbelief. "I've had to crawl in even more air vents just so I wouldn't get caught _again!_ "

"Again?"

"Well, the first air vent I hid in on the _Falcon_ only got me caught by one of those soldiers."

"Stormtroopers."

"Yeah. Anyway, you were right about Xenon—he picked the lock in that cell that they dumped me in, and I came here, through more air vents."

"Those haven't exactly brought you the best of luck insofar," he pointed out. "But, yes, I must say I have quite a bit more stealth than you do." Though she scowled, Holly didn't interrupt. "It is part of the Jedi training."

"Oh, not that again," she grumbled. "The Force—that can't _do_ anything! It's impossible, even in this galaxy!"

"Of course it's real, Holly, and active. I'm here speaking to you because of it; the Force undoubtedly brought you here, for there is no conceivable alternative. I can feel it. Luke can feel it. I have even reason to believe that _you_ can feel it."

Holly just scoffed. "Sir, with all due respect, that _couldn't_ happen. You may believe in it, but you can't get me to."

"And what of this 'empathy' you described back on the ship?" he probed. "That wasn't mere imagination. You could feel Luke's grief through the Force, much as I could feel Alderaan's destruction."

"Then why didn't I feel the planet blow up?"

"That is something that I cannot explain," he admitted, taking to pacing the room. "But you can certainly feel through the Force—and you can hear projected thoughts, as well. Not many can, even amongst the Jedi; it takes a special sort of connection."

"What do you mean?" Was he saying that the voice in her head _wasn't_ her conscience?

"It takes a direct path of the Force," explained Obi-Wan. "A deliberate shift in the strands of destiny—a shift that it, in itself, controls. You are part of that shift, I can feel it. Luke certainly can, as well; it would be quite difficult to ignore."

"Okay, okay," Holly played along for a moment. "Say that you _are_ right and I'm just a stubborn non-believer—but _how_ would you know this? I mean, it's like you're reading a textbook, that's how certain of it you are."

"I am most certain," he said. "The Force is, simultaneously, the most dependable and the least dependable, well, _force_ in the universe. If there is one thing that is certain, it's that it surrounds you entirely for _some_ reason, to fulfill _some_ purpose. What that purpose is I cannot even attempt to guess, but it is most certain that you being here is no accident."

"That doesn't tell me how, though." Holly was growing impatient. "You're just repeating what you already said."

He sighed, as if dealing with a small and ill-behaved child. "It is as clear to me as a swift gust of air would be to you. A Jedi can be trained to tap into the Force, to harness it and use it to their advantage, to find balance within themselves. They can also feel when some aspect of the Force is out of balance, as it is with you."

This was starting to sound an awful lot like Robert Jordan's _Wheel of Time_ ; everything about the Force sounded like the One Power. "So you can feel that I'm 'out of balance'," she emphasized this with incredulous finger quotes, "with the 'Force'?"

"Indeed," he said, nodding, probably relieved that she finally got it—or, at least, pretended to. He didn't seem to mind the fact that she most obviously didn't believe him. "But you must listen now, Holly. You must do what I say— _exactly_ as I say it if you are to survive this," Obi-Wan warned.

Holly nodded, feeling a bit perplexed. Yes, of course they were in danger, but was he going to tell her how to get _out_ of danger? She remained silent and waited for him to continue.

"You must follow my directions. Do not divert from the path I say, and under _no_ circumstances are you to follow me," he ordered in a lecturing tone, resting his hands on Holly's shoulders as if that would emphasize his point. "Do you understand me?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. "But I don't understand you." Holly paused a moment. "Well, I get what you're trying to say, but I don't quite know _why_. Are you saying that you're not coming with me?"

He looked down for a moment. "You must understand," he said slowly. "I cannot come with you. Luke must go his own way, now, as must you, Holly. Amongst the little that I know is the fact that yours is the type of future that you must build yourself. I cannot guide you through it; nobody can.

"Luke needed a push; he needed an external prodding to get his story going. I was simply the person who provided that push. You, however…" he trailed off, fixing her with a meaningful look. "You have been pushed by something that I have no control over. I'm afraid that it is up to you."

Holly blanched. She stared openly at him for a moment, eyes wide with realization. _No_ , she thought, though she knew, really, that this was it. It's part of the hero's journey, the loss of the mentor. Obi-Wan was, obviously, the mentor in this tale, and this was his end. He parts from the protagonists and goes his own way—often by means of death—and the protagonist has to conquer the evil by themselves. With Harry Potter, it was Dumbledore's death. The Fellowship of the Ring? Gandalf's fall with the Balrog. Of course, the mentor wasn't gone forever in every story, but this certainly felt final.

She wouldn't see him again. Holly wasn't the main character; it wasn't her with whom he would linger; it wasn't her who would carry his advice and warning until the quest was over. No, that belonged to Luke. Luke would meet him at his own 'King's Cross Station,' or something similar. She would have undoubtedly been childishly jealous were it not for the gravity of the present situation.

"What—no, Obi-Wan, you can't leave now," she pleaded. "You can't! It's too early! Just don't go, please!" she engulfed him in another hug. He may be crazy, and she hadn't known him long, but she had grown attached. It was the type of instant connection—someone you immediately trusted. "You don't have to teach us anything, but don't die, please!"

He gave her a solemn pat, unperturbed. He must have expected something like this. "I have outlived everyone I know by nearly twenty years," he said. "I have kept myself alive far too long—and I have done what I must do. It is time, now, for me to go."

Holly didn't realize that there were tears in her eyes until they fell down her cheeks. His words didn't do much to convince her. She didn't quite know what to say in response, and she didn't have to. "Holly, you must listen to me now," Obi-Wan enforced. "I told you this because I need you to try and figure out your predicament. I told you this because you can't stop working towards your home."

"I wouldn't have stopped trying," she insisted, "but you could stay. You could help."

"You may need help very badly along the way," agreed Obi-Wan. "But you will not get it from me. I cannot get you home."

Holly's mind flashed to Luke's promise, the one that she hadn't truly believed. "Then who can?"

"You alone can get home. Now, do not cry—I will not suffer, I assure you. I am fulfilling a destiny." Holly looked at him through teary eyes, ready to protest. "But to ensure your safety, you must listen to me. You can't let an old man depart without a sound mind, without assurance that his earthy friends will live on?"

His eyes were so persuasive. She could see his point, and she could tell that he truly didn't fear what was coming. To covet his company would be selfish—this was clearly what he must do, and he wanted to do just that. Though unhappy with it, Holly nodded slowly. "Tell me how to get back. I promise not to follow you or get into trouble, Obi-Wan, though I will miss you." She spoke the words through muffled sobs.

Holly's mind wasn't properly in the right place, but she did recall one thing that brought her comfort—someone had once written that death was but the next great adventure. She wished the best for Obi-Wan, silently praying for him as he gave her explicit instructions.

42.

The four of them, Han, Luke, Chewie, and the Princess, finally crawled out of that slimy garbage contractor. Luke had been in nasty situations before, yes, but they had never been so….moist and damp and musty and _disgusting_. Every disgusting job he's ever had to do was something with the dry sand of Tatooine or the broken down generators in the moisture vaporators, which were dry themselves. He'd never been fully immersed in that much water, let alone that much smelly, slimy, water….

"If we can avoid any female advice, we ought to be able to get out of here," Han declared. He was in a similar predicament—he wasn't too wild about his pants being messed, though it wasn't nearly as bad as Luke's drenched clothes, which he was trying desperately to dry.

"We need to find Holly first," Luke pointed out. "Where do you think she could be?"

"Holly?" questioned Leia. "Who's this 'Holly'?"

"Holly's our friend," Luke responded. "She came here with us."

"Then why isn't she still with you?" demanded Leia. Her urge to hear the answer wasn't out of concern for this friend of theirs, but rather concern for how long it would take to get her back. They needed to get off of the Death Star as quickly as possible, and she stifled a grumble at this next dilemma.

"She was captured," Han said. "Then she escaped, and we don't know where to."

Leia narrowed her eyes. "Escaped? How does one just _escape_ from an Imperial cell? They've got some of the galaxy's strongest locks!"

"She must've had her droid with her," Luke supplied. "Xenon, she calls it, I think. He could've gotten into the wires and unlocked it."

"Could have," mused Han.

"Well, anyway, we have to go find her, quick!" Luke's quick and excited words were met by a reluctant silence from Leia.

She tried not to sound too calloused. "Your friend has probably gotten back to the ship by now," she said. She didn't want to waste time on a search that could come up null. She had to get those plans to the rebel base; that was her top priority, above her life and the lives of a few others, as long as those plans reached their destination. "Shouldn't we wait for her there?"

Han chuckled sarcastically. "You wouldn't have so much faith in Holly if you knew her."

"What is she, dumb?" Leia was growing irritable, and her sarcastic retort showed that clearly. They needed to get out of there quickly. "Why can't she find her own way back? She managed to escape, after all. And just because she's _female_ and may have _advice_ of her own doesn't mean that she's inferior to you! I'd bet she's even faring _better_ than you right now. Probably more sensible." Her rapid contradiction

"Anybody'd fare better without you there," grumbled the smuggler underneath his breath. If Leia heard him, she didn't say anything.

"Holly is _not_ dumb," insisted Luke. "She isn't. Holly's just never done this before—never done _anything_ like this." His words meant more than Leia knew, but she only saw the surface that he scratched. She didn't know to what extent Holly was inexperienced, and Luke wasn't about to explain it now.

"We need to get a move on," Han started. "Come on, I've got to find a terminal. Maybe someone's spotted Holly or knows where she is." He made for the end of the hall, brushing past that blasted princess.

"Listen, I don't know who you are or where you came from, but from now on, you do as I tell you," she ordered viciously. "Okay?" Leia didn't want anything bad to happen to this friend of theirs, but if she was just going to be a liability, the top priority wasn't on her.

"Look, Your Worshipfulness, let's get one thing straight! I take orders from one person, me!"

"It's a wonder you're still alive. If we come across a computer, you can look for your friend; we won't, however," she stressed 'won't, "go out of our way to look for her. I'm not, at least, and yours is the ship I'm taking back to base." She strode forward, glancing Chewbacca up and down. "Will somebody get this walking carpet out of my way?"

"No reward is worth this," said Han lowly to Luke. "We're getting Holly, whether _Her Highness_ likes it or not."

42.

SO! What d'you think? This chapter mainly just set up some stuff; you'll get more action next chapter, I promise, and...Finally...She'll meet Vader! I'm super excited to write that, and I hope I end up doing it justice.

Anyway, onto the reviews:

Himeno Kazehito: That would be an interesting concept. However, I must say that she isn't. I did, however, toy with the idea of another fic featuring him as a father figure to a different heroine...but that's something else entirely. And, yeah, I have-it was great. Thanks for reviewing!

Sardhrantor: Thanks! I try to deviate from what's already known as much as possible, because you already know what happened in the movies, and I didn't want just a retelling, or for anything to be too forced. I'm glad you think I'm doing a good job-thank you for your review!

Portia Mae: Your review really made me smile-I'm glad you like it so much. I actually got the idea for this story when I walked into the theatre to see The Force Awakens wearing a Star Trek shirt...and it was supposed to be a parody/comedy. While I failed in every possible way, I'm glad some people find it funny. Don't worry, she'll meet both Vader and Leia in ch. 14!

EGGS: Sorry to disappoint again; I PROMISE she'll meet them next time. Anyhow, I hoped you like it in the meanwhile, before Vader makes his appearance, and thanks for the feedback!

Stick with me, guys. I'm getting through it, and even though it's slow, it's coming along. Thank you all very dearly for your feedback; it's like sheet music to by computer screen. See you all next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

Hi! So, this one is shorter than the last one because I felt like I should give you guys something before the weekend's over, even if Sunday's nearly over. It could have been longer, but hey, that just means more for the next chapter!

And the beginning of this chapter was hard to write. I don't know if I even did a good job of it, but Obi-Wan's final words of parting (sorry for drawing it out longer than the ending of _The Return Of the King,_ by the way) were sad to me. He is probably my favorite Star Wars character _ever_ , and I was really sorry to see him go.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. If I did, Leia never would have kissed Luke.

Chapter 14:

Obi-Wan's directions had been easy to comprehend. Holly had no problems with understanding _what_ to do; the main issue was with actually _doing_ it. Granted, her rout wasn't the simple 'turn left' one usually got when they ask for directions, but nothing about his orders had been complicated except for one thing: not to follow him.

The two of them followed the same path for a while, but eventually, there came a parting of the ways. "You have promised not to follow me," Obi-Wan told her before rounding the corner. She was slightly teary still, missing him even before he was truly gone. "You cannot follow me now, Holly. You have to get back, find Luke. Tell him not to stop learning, to never stop trusting in the Force."

Holly nodded, lip quivering. She hardly dared to speak, and when she did, her voice shook. "I'll—I'll miss you," she finally said. "Luke will too. We all will."

He nodded, smiling sadly. "Do good, Holly," he began simply. "The Force will help you find your home."

She didn't even bother doubting him. It would have been selfish to banter about the impossibility of the Force now. "Of course," was her reply. A single tear slid down her cheek, but she didn't bother wiping it. Holly didn't want to cry in front of Obi-Wan, but he had gone around the corner before she even had time to feel ashamed.

She contemplated following him. Holly seriously considered going back on everything she said, considered walking his path regardless of his warnings, despite what might go wrong. If she could have thought rationally, perhaps the possibility of something going awry if she chose to follow him would have crossed her mind, but that did not cause her trepidation. No, what stilled her feet was the knowledge that, indeed, Obi-Wan Kenobi would be dying soon, and although she could say goodbye, Holly would never live with herself if she saw him leave forever, if she actually saw him die.

42.

"We haven't crossed a computer yet," Luke said anxiously. They were nearing the hangar, and still there had been no sign of Holly, no place to check for her. Where was she? What was happening to her? It was all Luke could think of, his thoughts dwelling on the strange girl too long. He was worried, fearing the worst; had she been captured again? Injured? Had she died? He shuddered at the thought. "We really should go back for—"

"Go back _where_ , exactly?" demanded the beautiful princess. "You can't just scour the entirety of the Death Star looking for her! This place is huge, and we don't have enough time!"

"I'm not just going to leave her to die!" argued Luke. "We _have_ to find her. You may not know Holly, but she's our friend."

"There'll be computers in the hangar," Han chimed in beside them. "We'll find her, and we _will_ go to get her back, whether you come or not," he snapped to Leia.

She huffed in annoyance. "Listen here, you filthy scoundrel," she spat. "The plans are getting off this station one way or another, with or without _Holly_. We can't risk an entire population's survival for the life of one girl! You've seen what this station can do to planets. _It destroyed my home_ ," Leia stressed. "Do you know how many more star systems will be destroyed if we don't get these plans to the rebellion?"

"Yeah, well, what if it were you who was lost, instead of Holly?" Luke rounded on her. "Would you want us to turn our backs on you, were your positions swapped?"

"I'd gladly give my life for my people," was her immediately response, given without hesitation. "I'd be willing to die for the rebellion. I'd think that it would be better to save all of those lives than waste time finding me."

This silenced them. Luke realized that he couldn't use that tactic to sway her point of view. Of course, he didn't _need_ her approval to do anything….

Han, too, was at a loss. Fortunately, both of them were spared the need to come up with an answer or follow-up question when the four of them—Han, Luke, Chewie and the princess—came to the end of the corridor.

"Okay," said Han. "Now, beyond there is the hangar, just around the corner." They all crept forward, eager to see the _Falcon_ again. Peering beyond the corner, their eyes fell upon the ship itself—it sat silent in the cargo bay, many Stormtroopers circling the ship dutifully. Obviously, they couldn't just run across the hangar into the fray without a distraction—the troopers were terrible shots, but with this many, one blast was bound to hit one of them.

They all shared a glance, waiting for the proper time.

42.

The door at the end of the hallway was open. Holly could hear the methodic beat of footfalls in complete synchronicity, which only served to amplify the sound. If Jawas walked in single-file lines to hide their numbers as Obi-Wan had said, did these men walk simultaneously to give the impression of greater numbers? It made sense on the front lines, but not in their own station .

Holly didn't choose to dwell on this insignificant fact, preferring to slowly creep forward instead. None of the Stormtroopers saw her make her slow appearance, and for this she was immensely grateful.

Her eyes had been glued so strongly to the _Millennium Falcon_ sitting idly in the hangar beyond that she didn't see a certain pair of unusual crewmen. In fact, they weren't crewmen at all—they were rebel droids.

It was the rather iconic beeping that attracted Holly's attention. She had been leaning forward ever so slightly, contemplating walking forward and making a run for it when she heard, and her head whipped to the side so quickly her neck cracked. Standing there, not but three paces away were R2 and 3PO: two people—ahem, droids—whom she was honestly beginning to doubt she would ever see again.

"3PO!" she whispered loudly. The troopers were quite a great distance away, though, and they couldn't possibly hear them from this distance—yet her precautious mind didn't let her make decisions _that_ stupid. "3PO! It's me!"

The gleaming golden droid turned to her. If he could move his face, he would undoubtedly be smiling. As it was, Holly could see him shifting excitedly from foot to foot, nudging R2 beside him. "Holly, you're here! Oh, I simply can't describe my elation!"

Holly shuffled forward quickly, ducking behind the large crates that were piled up near the droids. She launched into a hug, which would have been awkward if Holly could think of anything else except her relief at seeing her friends again. It was also very uncomfortable, with 3PO's metal body being quite a bit colder than the air around and, well, metal; however, that didn't matter. "Yes! It's so great to see you too, 3PO. I feared you were all killed—deactivated or whatever—and I was only the last one gone!"

"As far as I know, we are all quite alright," 3PO commented.

"What about Luke? And Han, of course? Chewie?"

"They should be alive as well," he said. "We've just communicated with them—they had been in a garbage compactor, would you believe? and we had to come in to save the day, of course. Shut down all of them on that level. They were simply terrified without us."

"I bet they were," she chuckled at his boasting. So Luke and Han were alive! And of course Chewie was. If there was one thing that she could bet on, it was that Chewie could make it out alive. He just seemed like the type of character who would live forever. "How will we get back to the ship through all these guards?"

"We'll have to wait for a distraction." That did seem the only way.

"Or make one ourselves," she pointed out.

Holly took a courageous step forward to survey the hangar entirely. She didn't get to do a full sweep, however, when something caught her attention.

Across the bay, a door that stood open revealed a menacing black figure: Darth Vader.

Now, of course Holly knew Darth Vader. He had been the face of 'evil' ever since, well, _forever,_ it seemed to Holly. Standing there, red lightsaber drawn and pointed towards something she could not see, the masked villain simply stood there. It seemed that time had frozen the moment that Holly saw the _one and only Darth Vader_ , and she stood a moment in shock before she realized that all of the Stormtroopers were storming towards him.

Holly took this as her chance. For some stupid reason that not even she could come up with, Holly rushed forward, towards the cloaked figure with the breathing problem. Towards Luke's _Dad_. LUKE'S DAD. HE was Luke's father, right there. When Holly got to a certain angle, it was finally revealed who the red saber was angled towards.

It was Obi-Wan.

"What—what—" escaped Holly's mouth as she simply looked upon the scene with shock and alarm. Nobody heard her, of course—who would be listening to her when, right over there, two men were dueling with lightsabers? Certainly not Holly herself, that's for sure.

Obi-Wan stopped. Seriously, he just stopped moving. Holly silently shouted at him to get out of the way, but of course he didn't hear her unspoken words. _Farewell, Holly_ , she heard. His voice—it was the last time she'd hear it. Holly had finally accepted that it was him, and when she did, it would be the last….

The red blade slashed against his shoulder, and instead of his arm falling off like that alien's had in the cantina, the man himself vanished, leaving behind nothing but a pile of robes and a sheathed saber.

Holly gaped, and that was really the last thing she remembered consciously doing. Every action that followed felt like watching an extraordinarily clear and life-like film; her surroundings swam round her as she acted on mere impulse. Usually, Holly thought through her actions to some extent, but now, she had no control over what she was doing: all she knew was that it happened.

"NO!"

Looking back, Holly could never distinguish which 'no' she heard: her own, or Luke's. Then, she hadn't even known he was there, and when his anguished cry reached her, she hardly registered it.

She had already rushed headlong into the fray by the time his cry reached her. The surrounding Stormtroopers must have shot at her, but she didn't register it either, just like she didn't register Luke calling her name frantically. What she _did_ register, however, was leaping through that open doorway and stumbling onto the floor—she hadn't leapt high enough, and snagging her foot on the ledge made her tumble forward.

Holly landed on her shoulder, which hurt like crazy. She realized the pain later, however, for she was too busy scrambling towards the pile that had been Obi-Wan's robes, shuffling them around as if she were hoping to find him there, hiding.

Even later Holly wasn't quite sure she hoped to accomplish—she had seen the saber strike him. The logical conclusion would have been, however, for his limp body to fall to the floor. So why did he just vanish? It was only after that Holly really wondered that; for now, though, she just scrambled frantically on her knees, searching desperately for some solution for a question she hadn't even formulated yet, and for once, she wouldn't accept the answer forty-two.

Her hands made contact with the metal of his lightsaber, still warm from being lit. She grasped it tightly, not quite satisfied but glad that it was something other than just cloth that she found.

"Drop that weapon."

A sharp gasp was evidence of Holly's shock. Her frantic, confused, and panicked mind had totally forgotten what had caused all of this mess, why she was there gripping the lightsaber at all: Darth Vader.

His dark figure towered over her. The looming cape coupled with the mechanical breathing and _downright threatening_ mask made her quiver with fear. Holly didn't care how typical and every-day he had looked to her before; now, he was creepier than Sméagol singing 'Every Breath You Take.'

Holly found herself wanting a stick. Something that could put distance between her and the menacing villain before her—though a simple stick wouldn't be much help. Perhaps a nice gladius….no, too short. Katana? No, Vader had a lightsaber. That would melt any metal weapon she had.

But wait….

This button right where her thumb was turned the lightsaber on, right?

Vader pointed the lightsaber at her threateningly. Holly gulped as she felt the heat coming at her face in waves, wide eyes most definitely reflecting the intense red glow. "Do not make me kill you. Drop the weapon, girl, or you _will_ be sorry."

She shrieked at him in an ungracefully and pathetically loud tone to "Get away from me!" as she swung the saber, pressing her thumb down onto the button and praying her general knowledge of how buttons worked wasn't flawed.

It wasn't. At least, the 'button' part wasn't. Her knowledge, though….could take some improvement.

A blue beam of light flooded from the hilt, clashing with the red of Vader's blade. Holly wasn't unfamiliar with a sword (in fact, she and her cousin sometimes sparred with heavy plastic swords when they saw each other), but her practices came few and far between (and she wasn't skilled _at all_ —she just liked pretending she was). At any rate, she wasn't used to someone as obviously skilled as _Darth Vader_ being her opponent.

When her (well, Obi-Wan's) lightsaber collided with Vader's still one, it did nothing to change its position. Rather, her own saber merely bounced back to her body. She narrowly missed decapitating herself with her own blade as she scrambled to her feet and backed away.

"Insolent girl," Vader seemed to mock. " _Stupid_ girl to think you could best me."

She was nearly running backwards now, not caring what happened behind her. "I—I—" But trying to get any words out was useless. Holding the saber out with both hands, she swatted it as if aiming for a fly. All was good (or better, at least) until she _again_ tripped over that stupid rise.

And fell right on her backside.

As she shuffled back, the offending blade came forward swiftly. Holly instinctually hid her face, turning away and jamming her chin into her shoulder in an attempt to avoid getting her face burnt off.

It must have been her lack of knowledge, of foresight, that made karma—or whatever weird Force that ruled over this galaxy—deem it appropriate to inflict upon Holly what came next.

First, all she saw was complete darkness, because she was squinting her eyes so tightly. Next, though, there was severe pain—her entire right side felt engulfed in flame, though she knew that didn't happen. She screamed shrilly, hurting even her own ears, while her eyes flew open and her legs pushed the rest of her body back quickly.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Holly registered the continued blaster shots, but her focus was split only two ways, on the two most important things right now: one half on the antagonist before her, another half on her flaming shoulder. She had narrowed the range of the injury, because it was impossible that the entirety of her right side was damaged; still, she could not say _exactly_ were on her shoulder the wound was, just that it took up a lot of space and hurt worse than _anything she had ever felt before._

Holly also realized that she was no longer holding the lightsaber. It had skidded across the floor; it dawned upon her that his intent hadn't solely been on burning her with his blade, but rather on disarming, and perhaps he had just seen an opportunity to do both. It didn't bother her too much, not having the saber any more. With her luck, she'd cut off her own head.

"Blast the door, kid!"

That was Han's voice. She would have jumped and rejoiced if she could, but her panic left her without much coordination; she could only barely hear him as it is, anyway.

The door began to close. Holly was on the other side of it, actually in the hangar, and she was immensely thankful that Vader was not. He said nothing more, merely watched intently (or what she assumed would be intently—nearly everything here seemed to want to hide its face in masks, or perhaps the mask _was_ their face) as their views of each other vanished.

Something grasped her underneath her arms, hoisting her up. Holly's first thought was of a Stormtrooper, but the voice behind her assured that it was not. "Oh, no, _why_ did you do that?!"

Luke raised one arm and aimed at the Stormtroopers remaining in front of them. His first shot hit the wall, but the second eliminated the one closest. Holly stammered something in response, but it was unintelligible, even to her own ears; "Okay, we've just got to hurry!" he said urgently, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back towards the ship.

"You need to stand, Holly!" Holly heard Han's voice from somewhere behind them. Her arm still burned intensely, and only barely could she distinguish anyone's voice from the general havoc being wreaked.

She tried to stand; she really did. And she succeeded, for a moment, before her knees nearly buckled. Luke tightened his grip on her and began to half-drag, half-carry her across the floor; by how difficult the task was for both of them, it was obvious that neither were used to something like this.

They boarded the _Falcon_ as quickly as they could, the door beginning to slide shut before they were even clear the boarding ramp. The two of them scrambled to the central room, where 3PO and R2 were gathered around the table.

"Luke—" Holly began, finding her voice again. "Luke, I'm so sorry."

As they both slid onto the seat, Holly glanced at his face. His eyes were downcast, mouth pulled into a thin, grim line. The expression was familiar to her—he had worn it back in Mos Eisley. Then it dawned on her: that was right after his aunt and uncle were murdered.

She felt, again, that exterior wave of grief. It was harder to distinguish now because of her own feelings—she had seen Obi-Wan die, as well. He had given her parting words and she had been prepared for his passing, but that didn't mean it lessened the blow. Still, Holly could tell that this feeling far surpassed her own in intensity.

Was she really feeling his emotions, or was it just how outwardly obvious his emotions were?

"It isn't your fault," he said, though it lacked the sincerity that she would have liked. It was obvious that she wouldn't be his shoulder to cry on, which she hadn't expected anyway. Holly didn't think it _was_ her fault to begin with, but she hadn't foreseen such an expressionless tone from him. "But Holly, your—your shoulder—"

She hadn't forgotten; she hadn't come close to forgetting it. Holly finally mustered the will to look at it, pushing aside the

The burn was gruesome. It sickened her slightly to see the scorched flesh surrounding the angry and bleeding wound inflicted by the lightsaber, but she was never bothered in the same way by her own injuries as she was by those of others. That didn't take away from the pain, though; she realized now that her jaw was clenched and tears streamed down her cheeks.

So much for that tough-guy demeanor she hadn't really been trying to pull off anyway. "Tis but a scratch," she got out.

"'A scratch?'" repeated Luke incredulously, raising his eyebrows. It lessened slightly his previously dismal expression. "Holly, it almost looks like he's cut your arm off!"

"Just a flesh wound." Luke continued to stare at her. Holly's pathetic attempt at humor failed, she allowed herself a spiteful laugh. She followed it up with: "Sorry. I've always wanted an injury bad enough to be able to say that."

Which was, obviously, not the right thing to say.

"How—you— _you wanted an injury?_ " Holly didn't respond. "Okay, you know what? Doesn't matter right now. We've got to do something about that!"

Holly wracked her mind for things to tend to her wound with, but nothing came up. She had never had need of anything other than mild burns attained from a cooking pan that could be treated with aloe. This wasn't that kind of burn, for one, and another thing was, she didn't have any aloe.

Slowly, trying not to brush the burn with the rough fabric, Holly slid off the jacket. There was a crisp hole burnt in it where the lightsaber made contact, but that didn't matter because Holly didn't care about that uniform anyway. Her hoodie had been tied around her middle, and there wasn't enough sleeve on her back t-shirt underneath to be burned, so the only other casualty was, of course, her arm.

"I don't know what we can do about it," she said, having nothing to offer.

"You'll just have to wait," a curt voice answered. Holly's head snapped up and her eyes found an extremely elegant woman waltz into the room. She wore a soft white gown and had a young and beautiful face. What was most telling, however, were the two buns on the sides of her head. "The medics at the base can help you once we get there, but on this measly piece of recycled shrapnel, you'll probably not find much."

"You're Princess Leia!" Holly exclaimed. The girl from the hologram! They had rescued her. "Wow, Luke—you guys rescued her!" She beamed up at Luke, who made a sheepish face. Holly was, for some reason, immensely happy that the Princess whose message R2 bore hadn't died.

"With no help from you." Holly was taken aback; while she had not expected the princess to be particularly friendly (she doesn't expect _anyone_ to be friendly to begin with), the tone with which Princess Leia replied was clipped and irritated, bordering on threatening. "That stunt you pulled back there—you should know how close you came to getting all of us killed."

Holly shrunk back into the seat. She must've been taller than Leia, but she certainly didn't feel like she was now—she felt, at most, three years old, caught with paint on her palms and handprints on the wall. "I—I'm sorry," she muttered weakly, bowing her head.

Leia gave a curt nod. Obviously, she wasn't one for long, drawn-out conversation, especially with someone whom she obviously thought lowly of. Holly's cheeks burnt red, both from her bout of crying, her continued jaw-clench of extreme pain and discomfort, and the shame that she felt now.

Leia crossed to the other side of the room and pulled a blanket out of an alcove. She draped it over Luke's shoulders, rubbing his back comfortingly. Holly's eyes skirted across the room awkwardly.

 _Must be their brother-sister bonding time_ , she said to herself. "I'm going to—going to find a washroom," she excused after clearing her throat. Luke looked up briefly and made quick eye contact before looking back down, Leia ignoring her completely.

42.

She didn't find a washroom. Really, she didn't look; all Holly had wanted to do was leave Luke and Leia to their sibling stuff. Holly had two brothers, but both of them were much older than she was: she had never gotten really close to her siblings, so she wasn't quite sure how this whole subject would be handled.

Holly didn't have much time to wonder, though, because Han soon came running down the hallway. "It's not over yet," he said, glancing over her wound quickly before beckoning Luke to man one of the guns.

After everyone had taken their positions, Holly didn't know where to go. Leia had gone with Chewie to the cockpit, Xenon following in their wake, but Holly had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Instead of just waiting feeling useless in the corridor, she decided to descend the ladder and feel useless while she observed the main hero destroy some bad guy ships.

Trying to move her arm as little as possible (any drastic movement agitated the burn and intensified her discomfort), Holly clambered clumsily down the ladder. There was an awkward gravity shift when she reached the bottom, causing her to gasp quietly in surprise.

Luke glanced back at her once he got his headset on. There wasn't a _whole_ lot of room in this section, but she could fit comfortably on a small ledge in a corner. "Come to see the show, huh?" he asked off-handedly.

"You bet," she replied as the chair in front of her swung from side to side. It was fascinating to watch until she became utterly captivated by the view of space beyond. "As long as this is better than the graphics of Star Trek's original series, I'll be satisfied."

"If we survive this," Luke muttered, not trying to ponder her odd reference, which he was sure he would never understand anyway.

 _Oh, you will,_ she thought to herself. _If I remember correctly, there are, like, five movies._ At least, there had been more than she cared for.

"You in, kid?" Holly could hear Han's voice through Luke's headset. "Okay, stay sharp."

The ship began to rock and shake. Holly decided that her spot leaning against the wall wasn't the most stable position she could have chosen, regretted even leaving the room with the two droids, and began clinging to the ladder.

"Here they come!" came Leia's voice.

Holly saw them immediately, for she had hardly torn her eyes away from the glass the entire time she had been there. From the great depths of space seemed to suddenly immerge many one-mad fighters, very similar to that which had lead them to that blasted Station earlier.

They swarmed and surrounded the ship, flying out of sight from Luke and Holly's vantage point. The lights flickered on and off as a huge blast struck the ship, sending her nearly tumbling to the ground. Holly tightened her hold on the rungs.

On one of the displays on the control panel, a figure flitted in and out of sight. Luke shot seemingly blindly (for Holly couldn't see what he was aiming for) and missed. "They're coming in too fast!" Almost too quickly for her to see, one fighter zoomed in front of the glass.

Holly heard an explosion somewhere above them. She blanched, worried that the ship would tear apart at any moment. "We've lost lateral controls!" Leia reported.

What did that mean? Would they not be able to steady themselves? If Colonel Graff from _Ender's Game_ was right and it was true 'that in null gravity directions are whatever you conceive them to be,' what did it matter that the ship was upside down or sideways? While she was pondering the irony of the casting of Harrison Ford as Graff as well as Han, it struck her that it did matter which way was which when they were blasting enemies.

"Don't worry, she'll hold together!" Han assured. After a few more jolts, he muttered something else that Holly couldn't quite catch, but it didn't sound as reassuring as she would have hoped.

A few suspenseful moments later, Han let out a triumphant laugh. Luke, however, was still struggling, firing at the few fighters that crossed their gun.

Eventually, one of Luke's shots hit its target. "Wonderful!" Holly praised, hoping it would encourage him to hit again.

"Got him! I got him!" he shouted to Han.

"Great, kid; don't get cocky!"

Luke looked slightly downtrodden, focusing back on the fighters. "You did great, Luke," Holly tried to reassure. "Don't listen to him, he's just jealous that you're learning quickly."

"As if," Luke gritted as he shot a few more times. Her breath hitched as he _almost_ hit his mark but missed narrowly.

"There are still two more of them out there!" the Princess informed.

The battle continued. Holly found herself enjoying the thrill, not to mention how it took her mind off of her arm. This was more exhilarating than the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, mainly because this was (technically) real, and she was actually here.

At last, the distant orange glow of the explosion caused by the final fighter's destruction was observed silently, but it was joyous nonetheless, even without the noise of the explosion. Holly imagined an epic soundtrack playing, something like 'So Long and Thanks for All the Fish' serving as an ironic funeral dirge for the fallen fighter.

"That's it! We did it!" laughed Luke, jumping up from his chair.

"Oh, thank you for not letting us die!" Holly contributed with a large smile. Luke spun around and pulled her into a tight hug (careful to avoid her injured shoulder), which she gratefully returned. She forgot, in that moment, that she had seen his father murder Obi-Wan hardly an hour before. It just felt good to see a smile on his face once again.

42.

Here it is. As I said, it's a bit shorter, but I wanted to get something out this weekend so I may be able to get back to the schedule that I'd leniently assigned myself. Don't be too sure about it, though-I've still got EOCT's to focus on.

Here's for the reviews:

Himeno Kazehito: Can't say I agree with you, but I always respect people's ships; it's what I'd want others to do for me, after all. I hope this is up to your standards; thanks for reviewing!

myharlequinromance321: Thank you! I totally understand what you mean; the only bad part about books is that they all have to end, most of them _way_ too soon. I really appreciate how much support you've given me, what with the reviews and adding me to your community. I've visited it, by the way, and I've found quite a few great stories there! Thanks!

Sardhrantor: Nope, Holly and Leia don't quite get along. It's something I'd sort of planned since the beginning...I hope it's in character; let me know if it isn't. And, yeah, she FINALLY met Vader. Glad you reviewed :)

.2016: Oh, yeah, they will. Sorry to keep you waiting too long; I just didn't want to completely forget his crush on Leia in the beginning, and I wanted Luke to be able to warm up to Holly before they get any romance. It'll come along in between ANH and ESB, though, which is soon!

Guest (Petta): I simply can't express how much your review made me smile :) Really, you're too kind. But I'm glad you enjoy it; I've tried to keep Holly as believable and human as possible so readers could connect with her. And, don't worry; I always wanted to write a Han/OC story, but I restrained myself (in the early drafts of this in my head, I entertained the idea, but I thought it'd be better for them just to be awesome friends). I hope you like her with Luke just as much! Thanks so much for your feedback; I'm really appreciative.

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: Yeah, that about sums it up; I liked the irony of it when I first started writing this. And, the chapter answers you itself: she meets him now! I hope it was up to par. And it's perfectly fine if you're not into Star Trek; as I said, it's not a crossover, so you don't need to be!

Syra72: Wow, thanks! Glad you guys seem to like reading this as much as I like writing it; I'll try to keep it's entertainment value consistent :)

EGGS: Unsurprisingly, you were right! Unfortunately, it wasn't too hilarious to her, of course, 'cause she got hurt. But, being the sadistic writer that I am, I laughed a bit at how ridiculous it was in my head. Seems lightsaber dueling isn't exactly her forte...

bb4ever1000 (if you make it this far): Thank you! I actually expected hardly anyone to be that familiar with Star Trek, though, so that's why it's no longer _too_ important. And, to be honest, I don't there is anything other than 'Star Wars fan!'

Wow, over 60 reviews! You guys just made my day. Anyway, be sure to tell me what you thought, and stay connected for the next chapter! (hopefully it's on time)


	15. Chapter 15

So! This one's a little late, I apologize. Homework to blame. Sorry if it feels disjointed or spontaneous, but I literally wrote this entire thing in less than a day, and I want to be able to get you some material on a fairly regular basis (even though I'm two days behind). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 15:

 _"_ _Narrowly escaped that last one, it seems," spoke the defined, androgynous voice from the filled void. Everything was chaotic and still, simply waiting in calm anticipation to act. "How much longer shall it be?"_

 _"_ _As long as it takes," answered its equal counterpart. The two sides clashed, focusing on the same dimension with different aspects, different views._

 _The voice was skeptical. "How will that be known? Until it is over, the outcome is unpredictable. Send 'em back; they've done nothing, changed nothing. Everything's back to the way it was. But keep 'em there too long, her usefulness may equally diminish."_

 _"_ _When the time comes, we will see. It will be revealed in due time." There was no time, for it was all relative, and there was nothing here for it to be relative to, just as there was_ too much _for it to be related to, but it was a mortal term that they found quite useful._

 _"_ _But will it then be revealed as too early, or too late?"_

42.

Holly jolted awake when she felt someone gently shaking her shoulder. She was reluctant to rise from her slumber; it had not been restful, and she desperately craved more. She attempted to shrug off whoever dared disturb her sleep, but the movement jarred the cauterized wound on her arm, causing her to flinch in pain, thus shooting most weariness from her senses.

She hissed, though it bordered on being a whine.

"Sorry," voiced her rude awakener. It was cordial and clipped, but not quite unkind; still, it didn't sound _truly_ sorry. The feminine tone told her that it was Leia. "We're nearing Yavin IV. You're going to have to get up if you don't want to be dragged along with _Solo_ after he leaves."

Holly sat up slowly, holding her arm tightly to her torso so as not to shift it too drastically. "You mean Han's leaving?"

The Princess stood up, now straight and regal. She towered over Holly, who had not yet risen from the couch. "That man doesn't seem to care either way about anything that isn't his ship, his walking rug, money, or you. He won't be of aid to the rebellion whatsoever. You know, I have to pity you; how did you ever get stuck with _him_ as a friend?"

Holly became defensive of Han for a moment before remembering the opinion that she herself had of Han when she first knew him. "I was his beard," she replied distractedly, lost in the memory.

"What?" demanded Leia. She must've assumed that Holly was joking with her. It did sound ridiculous out of context, Holly had to admit.

"Sorry. He was….running. From Stormtroopers. Well, he ran into me and had to appear….preoccupied….so they wouldn't notice him acting suspiciously."

"'Preoccupied' how?"

"Well, you know….some arrogant guy comes 'round to your table, your droid tries to shock off his fingers…." Holly did _not_ want to get into the full story with this woman. The Princess already disliked her; she didn't want to give her a reason to want to throw her through an airlock. "So, next thing you know, he's been your 'friend' for years and you're just catching up on old times."

"He used you as a getaway? A hiding spot?"

"That's about right," Holly agreed. She turned her head to absentmindedly prod her burn. It hurt like crazy, but she chose to focus her attention on how much of a scar it'd leave later rather than the pain now.

There was a pregnant pause in the air as the two women did not look at each other. Neither knew how to go on, and Holly pretended not to notice. Holly would have been perfectly fine to wait silently until the Princess grew weary of the silence, but something prayed on her mind. "You said that Han's leaving."

"I did," she scoffed and shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you think a man like him would stay?"

She hadn't really had the time to think about what would happen after they got back into the air…er, space. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised."

"And would I be correct in assuming that you'd follow him?"

Holly paused, unsure. She didn't know the answer in the first place, and what reason would she have to tell this princess anyway? Either answer was bound to strengthen her dislike for the young tagalong.

But what use would she be to any 'rebellion'? She'd never wanted to join a military, _ever,_ and nearly being killed by the enemy didn't change her mind. It was a spurt of selfishness, she knew, but Holly didn't want to end up dying fighting for some rebellion in which she was not involved.

It was just further proof that Holly was no hero; a hero would want to avenge Obi-Wan. That was why Luke would claim all the credit; undoubtedly, he'd join in a heartbeat, true 'main character' style. And Holly would….well, actually, Holly just wouldn't.

"Yeah, probably," she admitted quietly, keeping her eyes locked onto her arm.

This must've surprised Leia, though for what reason, Holly could not fathom. She heard the regal woman stiffen with a sniff. "After all they went through for you?"

"Excuse me?"

She sighed. "They would have gotten us all killed looking for you, back there on the Death Star," Leia explained. "They could have jeopardized my entire mission because some insolent girl decided to come along, without any experience, and get herself caught."

The blatant insult didn't bother Holly if only because she was too focused on something that Leia had just said. Death Star? It ended up blowing up, right? Twice, or something like that? Clare must've mentioned it, so she kept her mouth shut.

"We'll be glad to see you go," Leia spoke coldly. "You and that _smuggler_ of yours—neither of you would have been any help in the first place." With that, she spun on her heal and stalked out of the main room.

42.

The _Falcon_ reached Yavin quickly. That could have been because Holly fell asleep for the first half of the flight there, but it also could have been because she was secretly dreading their arrival. She needed time to think, but her pain-addled and confused mind couldn't focus long enough to consider any of the variables, let along come to any conclusion or answer to her problem.

They landed quickly, without much of a hassle. Holly chose not to waste her energy on those who came to greet them; she didn't speak, merely nodding her head when she was introduced as a member of the rescuing crew. She did notice, however, how Leia paused when she said this, as if reluctant to admit it.

Swiftly after introductions, Leia ordered Holly to be taken to the med bay. "That wound must be tended to quickly," she said, shooting a sidelong glance her. "Be prompt; she and Solo won't be staying for long."

Leia stepped closer to the officer and began to tell him the events that had transpired. Before other military personnel approached Holly to guide her to the med bay, Holly caught a sudden and brief wave of that exterior emotion once more. She rotated her head to meet Luke's gaze, which held mingled surprise and disappointment as he processed what Han meant to do.

Han, seeming only mildly surprised, was about to say something to her before she was escorted through the halls into the med bay.

42.

"Whatever did this to you completely cauterized the wound," the doctor was saying. He was a middle-aged black man with a kind, fatherly face, and a voice that Holly found good to have when in the medical field. It sounded like Benjamin Sisko; it made you trust what he said as the truth.

Holly nodded. This much she knew already. "How is it treated?"

He smiled grimly. "Not much we can do, really," he said. "Cauterization used to be a common practice after surgeries, but it was replaced by more advanced methods, ones that shouldn't leave a long-lasting scar…." He trailed off unhappily.

"So I'll scar," she said. "Is that the worst of it?" Holly looked at her arm with narrowed eyes. "It won't stay like this forever, will it? Like blackened wood?"

"It won't," he affirmed, "but it may take nearly a month to heal. If it were any other type of wound, we would be able to heal it up in an hour with bacta, but I'm afraid it won't do much immediate good. There isn't enough healthy flesh to heal a wound like this with any punctuality."

"I'm not staying on the base long," Holly informed. "I'm due to leave as soon as the briefing's over."

"You came with that pilot, didn't you?" he began small talk as he rummaged through a drawer next to Holly's bedside. "You leaving with him too?"

"I'd assume so," she said glumly. "Not much for me to do here. I'm not a soldier."

"Oh, sure there is," argued the doctor in a friendly manner. "Not everyone here is on the front lines, after all. Look at me! You won't see me in one of those X-Wings, will you?"

"Guess not," she admitted. "But I'm no doctor, either."

"That, you may be," he agreed, "but there are certainly loads of other jobs needing to be done." _Like sanitation?_ Holly questioned silently as the doctor brought a jar of blue material and two rolls of gauze over to her. "What are you interested in?"

"Physics," answered Holly. "But what use is a physicist at a war base when everybody already knows the secrets of the universe? Engineering I like, too, but you're bound to have loads of better engineers than I'll ever be."

"Maybe," he mused as he opened the jar and rubbed some blue liquid onto the burn. It tingled unpleasantly, though not quite as much as it would have without the numbing agent he had injected into her arm minutes prior. "But with some training, you could be of use."

Holly opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. What could she do here? It didn't really matter, she supposed, as she remembered what Obi-Wan had said in parting. He never said that she had to stay with Luke, did he? All he said was that he couldn't get her home. But that didn't necessarily mean she had to find her way home with Luke's help….

Thinking back to Luke's half-hearted promise, Holly wandered if it really was half-hearted. Now that she thought about it, he certainly seemed sincere. But did that mean he was right?

"You'll end up doing what you want, no matter what I say," sighed the doctor. That was probably right. "But just think about it carefully. You seem to be troubled, so don't find a permanent solution to a temporary situation. As for this wound….change the bandage every twenty-four hours, wash it every other day, and apply this bacta every time you change the bandage."

"Thank you," she said, accepting the jar of bacta and extra bandages. "I—I'll think over what you said."

He smiled at her, patting her good shoulder. "Take care," he said, turning to clean up his working station.

Holly nodded and hopped off the bed. She made her way to the door, only to be stopped by it swinging open.

Luke stood on the other side, dressed in an orange and white suit. It looked….iconic. Holly bet that there were loads of Cosplayers with that outfit. That meant he was officially joining the rebellion—it was a sign that he was sticking to this group for good.

"Hi," she began.

"Come on," he said without exchanging pleasantries. Holly tightened her hoodie, which was tied around her waist, and followed him out of the med bay and into yet another set of winding corridors.

There was an awkward silence. Luke looked like he wanted to say something, but Holly noticed that he kept clenching his jaw every so often to keep his mouth shut until he could come up with the right words. Finally, he seemed to find them. "You're leaving."

Holly's eyes found interest in the floor. "Yeah, I am." She couldn't think of anything else to add. Nothing that would stop the way Luke was looking at her, at least, as if he had expected better. She had the grace to feel ashamed, though nothing she did was really 'wrong.'

There was another long pause before he spoke again. "Why?"

"Well," she began. "Xenon's still on the ship and there's my bag, too. And—"

Luke cut her off. "Holly, you _know_ that's not what I meant." He halted in his steps and turned to face her; the bright blue of his youthful eyes trapped her gaze, refusing to let her look away. "I want to know _why_ you're leaving with Han. _How_ will this help you get home?"

"I'm not getting home," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she continued: "I know what you said back there, before the space station. I know that you said you'd get me home. But you _can't_ , Luke! There's no way you can get me back. Not even with the bloody _Force_ will you get me home."

Her pessimism was bleeding through, she knew that. But Holly couldn't help it—Obi-Wan's death punctured her more than she thought it would. It ripped a gaping hole through any hope she may have had to get back home, because though she tried to believe what he told her, she just couldn't. "Why don't you believe we can do it? That we can get you home?"

"Obi-Wan told me…." Her breath hitched and she started again. "He said that he couldn't help me. I'd have to get home _by myself._ Then he died." She spoke the last word violently, clenching a fist. "So what makes you think _you_ can help me?"

Luke shifted his weight and Holly scanned his face, watching his expression morph into that of anger. She felt it, too; she felt it through whatever empathetic bond she seemed to be cursed to share with him. "I really thought better of you," he said. "I really thought that you'd try to get home. I would have _never_ expected you to just give up when something got a bit too hard!"

Holly reared back. "You—you think that this is me _giving up_?! No! I'm not giving up; I'm just not giving in to false hope!"

Luke crossed his arms. "I can help you, Holly," he said. His voice wasn't angry as it had been mere moments before. Obviously, he realized that that tactic hadn't worked. "I can't promise we'll succeed, but I can promise that, at least, I won't stop trying! _Please_ stay back; we can try and get you home. And if it doesn't work, well….at least you'll know that you tried."

Holly leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She fought to control her anger, though it wasn't really directed at him solely. She was angrier at the entire situation than anything specific. "Luke, I'd end up leaving either way. You try to help me home and succeed? Great, I'm gone. I leave with Han and Chewie? Great, I'm gone. Either way, I won't bother you anymore. What difference does it make how I go?"

Luke looked down as if considering what to say next. "You don't bother me." Another pause. "But _please_ think about it," he urged. "You want to get home, right?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. She didn't want to cooperate, but there wasn't really any reason not to.

"And you were brought here through the Force." It was more of a statement than a question, but she answered anyway.

"I don't know!"

"Well, you trust Ben, right? That's what he thinks happened. Personally, I believe him. And I can use the Force! Maybe I can get you back." He adopted that incredibly optimistic tone again. Holly didn't believe him, of course, but something in his voice made her think…. "Stay here, and once this battle's over, we'll start working at getting you home."

"That's a waste of your time. What does it matter to you?" she grumbled lowly as she began to walk away. Luke would probably end up dying out there anyway. Holly flinched inwardly at the thought. He caught her arm in a tight grip.

"Holly, please reconsider," he all but begged. "Don't go."

Holly's expression softened at the hurt in his. She took a step closer to him and tried to add assurance to her tone. "Luke, I'm sorry," she tried to say sincerely. "But I've got to go. I know that your plan won't work; it's just not possible. And if I'm going to stay here, in this world, I don't want to be tied down to a rebellion that I'm not part of."

She could see that he was about to argue, but she silenced him. "I'm not the selfless hero, Luke. I'm not you. And I'm not going to risk my life fighting something I'd never heard of, for a cause that I don't support. I don't believe that I can use the Force, and I don't believe you can get me home. And I'm sorry, but I have to go."

She made her way down the corridor, pretending not to care if Luke followed or not.

42.

Han Solo lifted the crates into the cargo bay. Chewie stood by, 'helping', but was really more interested in the people walking by than the payment he and Han received. Loud footfalls approaching them caused both to look up.

"How long until we leave?" Holly's voice was formal. It sounded to Han like she didn't want any of her emotions to show through, and the way she avoided his gaze when he looked up reinforced that theory.

"You're coming with me?" She just nodded in response. "All right, I suppose. We'll leave just as soon as I load all of the reward."

She started for the loading ramp, but Han called her back. "Holly, wait," he said. She stopped and turned. "What about that farm boy of yours? Is Luke going to come?"

"He'd rather be the hero and die out there than come with us," she muttered darkly. Han stared after her, but she said nothing more and disappeared into the ship.

Han considered this. She must've just spoken to him on her way from the med bay. From her tone, he inferred that they'd argued. Was it more about that 'Force' garbage?

Han didn't have much time to think, for hardly a moment after, Luke came around the corner. He was slower than Holly, who had seemed to rush, but no less deliberate. "So, you got your reward and now you're just leaving then?"

"That's right, yeah! I've got some old debts I've got to pay off with this stuff. Even if I didn't, you don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here, do you?" he motioned to the hangar. "Hey, why don't you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight. We could use you." He decided not to mention Holly; Han wasn't looking forward to a shouting match, and by the look on Luke's face, that might ensue.

"Come on! Why don't you take a look around? You know what's about to happen, what they're up against. They could use a good pilot like you. You're turning your back on them, you and Holly both!"

"This isn't Holly's fight. Hell, it ain't even her universe! What right have you to obligate either of us to help your rebellion? She's made her own choice." Han loaded another crate.

"She's turning her back on all hope of getting home, that's what _she's_ doing! You're certainly not going to get her back, that's for sure, and she can't do it on her own. I'm the only one who can help her and she's just quitting! She doesn't even want to try," he said.

"Well, you see, Kid, she's got common sense. Did you ever think that, maybe, she doesn't want to die for this rebellion?"

Luke huffed angrily. "That's not what I mean! I don't want her to stay and fight, I want you both to stay because you're my friends! Though, I guess you don't know what that means." He spun quickly around and stalked off.

"Hey, Luke," Han called. "May the Force be with you." He attempted to smile, but with Luke's withering glare, his face fell.

Chewie complained behind him. "What're you looking at?" Another crate loaded. "I know what I'm doin'."

 _Oh, what am I doing?_

42.

Xenon skirted back and forth across the game table in front of Holly. Knees pulled up to her chest, she merely gazed at him with disinterest. Her eyes didn't follow his movement; they remained glued to the center of the table as she lost herself deep within her thoughts.

She regretted her choice instantly when she stepped onto the _Falcon_. She would have regretted the alternative choice instantly when she saw the ship leave, but that thought did nothing to comfort her in the slightest. Rather, it assured her that, whichever choice she could have made, she'd have been miserable.

Han appeared around the corner, halting when he took notice of her. "Hey, Holly."

She raised her eyebrows in response as a sort of nod, not looking at him.

"Come on, what's the matter?" he took a seat beside her on the couch. "Sour about Luke?"

"A bit," she finally admitted. She began to pick at her worn shoes. Han couldn't think of anything to say next, so she added, "Where are we going now?"

"I've got to pay off some old debts back in Mos Eisley." Holly nodded her understanding. Tatooine, of course. She'd have to go back _there_. "After that, well, I never really know."

Again, she only nodded. Her thoughts weren't really on the trip back; she was thinking more of what she would have left behind. She hadn't said goodbye to 3PO or R2….

Han nodded and patted his knees. "Okay, then, I suppose we'll be off soon." He stood and crossed over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, fishing out a packet, which he tossed to Holly. "If you get hungry, you can eat this. Don't worry, it'll be better than that Mos Eisley trash. Washroom's down that hall, and Chewie and I'll be in the cockpit if you need us."

"All right," she said again.

Han left.

Holly continued to zone for a few more moments. It was doing nothing, this zoning, because she couldn't concentrate hard enough on any one issue to bother coming to the conclusion of the next. Her mind raced along the things she could have done to avoid being in this position, each one going farther and farther back. What if she hadn't approached Vader? Hadn't gotten caught by the Imperials? Hadn't told them about her strange appearance? Hadn't left Tatooine?

Something caught her eye from across the room. She hadn't even been looking; something had physically drawn her attention. That 'something' was the helmet that Luke had worn before they came across the battle station, lying on the floor next to the small, circular robot that fired shots at random at him.

Quicker than her joints were comfortable with, Holly rocketed herself out of the seat and at the helmet and robot. Scooping up the former into her hand, she held it up to eye level and examined it.

Holly then felt it; she felt something different. Something odd, something unfamiliar, but at the same time, completely usual. It was the same type of external surge she had felt before, but a different brand—it felt important, as if it were everywhere, all the through her like a tidal wave, she could have sworn she actually took a step back.

What she had seen earlier was real. Luke really had defended against those bullets; he really had used the Force. What that force was, Holly had no idea, but when she thought back to everything that had happened, none of them should have come out alive. Obi-Wan would say that it was because 'the Force was with them.' She now realized how absolutely ridiculous she had been to assume otherwise. How else would every extraordinary thing that had transpired here come to be?

How would she even be here were it not for that strange magic that she now felt? It was profound, as profound as her presence here was; Holly could feel it in her, around her, in and out like the air she breathed. Could this really be it? What Luke was talking about? What Obi-Wan meant? It was so confusing; this was equally similar as it was dissimilar to somehow feeling Luke's emotions, and she couldn't even explain it to herself.

Holly tried to hold onto the feeling. She tried to keep it close, to examine it further. She wanted to be able to study it, to find out exactly how it worked and why; all of these thing that she wanted, however, she would not get, though, because her calm state was harshly disrupted as she felt herself violently thrown to the floor.

The helmet rolled out of her hands as she fought to steady herself. She cursed her mistake; Holly should have been expecting the liftoff of the _Falcon_ to jar her.

"Bumpy liftoff, eh?" called Han from the cockpit. "Sorry 'bout that!"

Holly threw herself back into the couch, gripping her arm protectively, for that was what she had landed on. She desperately wished for some painkillers, but there was nothing on this ship that she could take, let along in this galaxy; who knew _what_ types of bizarre medicine they had, and how it would affect her?

After a moment, she regained her composure. Her arm stopped aching as badly, and she stood up. "See you in a bit, Xenon," she said to the droid as she approached the exit. "I've got a request to make."

42.

Holly slipped into the co-pilot's seat next to Han. Her shoulders were tense with anticipation. "Hi," she began.

"Hey," he greeted back. Holly waited a moment, not sure if she should actually do what she came here to do. When she says it, he'll undoubtedly think she's crazy. "Something wrong?"

"You're gonna think I'm crazy if I tell you," she said, trying to off her nervousness.

"Holly, I _already know_ you're crazy," he rolled his eyes.

"What a consolation." He sent her a sidelong glance that told her clearly to 'cut the nonsense.' "Okay. Han, don't get mad at me, please, but…." _Come on, just say it. He'll call you a hypocrite and patronize you, but at least you'll get it out_. "I think I just felt the Force a few minutes ago."

Han turned to her abruptly, a surprised look on his face. If these were any other circumstances, perhaps Holly would have laughed his expression. "I felt it," she repeated. "It—it's real."

"Right." He drew the word out so as to save him the effort of saying anything further.

"I swear!" she tried to convince him. "I felt it—it was tangible, it was corporeal—it was _actually there_ , Han, I'm serious!"

He chuckled. "So the Mighty Disbeliever believes in the Force now," he shook his head. "How 'bout you make something move without touching it, then, oh Great Jedi?" he asked sarcastically.

So Holly slapped him.

In the face.

It wasn't a hard or forceful slap, but it was a slap nonetheless. Holly was taken aback when she realized what she'd done, and so was he, apparently. His face was turned to the side and he rocked back into his chair, staring at her with wide, incredulous eyes.

"I didn't touch you," she said off-handedly. "Honestly, I didn't. None of the atoms in my body made contact with the atoms in your body, because there'd have been a chemical reaction if they had and the magnetic—"

"Okay, you can shut up now," he said. "I get it. I was proving a point; you were proving a point….but _why_ did you have to slap me?"

"I've wanted to slap you since Mos Eisley," she reported confidently.

"You're _still_ bent out of shape 'cause of that table?" he demanded incredulously. Holly laughed.

"No, I just never got the chance before now."

He turned back to the controls, muttering to himself.

Holly had hoped she'd forget about the next thing she wanted to bring up. It was a bit worse than simply mentioning that she had felt the Force (if indeed that was what she had done), because this was actually a request. But, unfortunately, she didn't forget. "Er, Han?"

He looked over at her with a playfully reproachful eye. "You're not gonna hit me again, are you?"

"What, did it hurt?" she derided with a laugh. "But, no, that's not the plan. I actually wanted to ask you a favor."

"And that is?"

 _Please, please believe me_. "Feeling the Force—"

"Oh, not again," he rolled his eyes.

Holly pointed a threatening finger at him. He settled for crossing his arms and fixing her with a petulant stare. "Please just listen," she begged. "Feeling it made me think—well, what if I _can_ go back home? Through the Force? I was stupid, back there with Luke….I understand that it's too late for that now, to apologize, but…." She trailed off, looking for the right words to say.

Han raised an eyebrow. "You want to go back?"

She nodded sheepishly.

"You want to go back _now_ , after we've already left?"

Holly dropped her head into her hands. She knew it was useless. "Look, sorry. Forget I mentioned anything; it was pointless anyway." She got up from the chair and turned to leave the cockpit.

"Wait, Holly, look," Han ordered, pointing to the glass window. Holly turned her gaze to that, eyes widening.

They were in real space. There was no time-vortex-esque blue tunnel around them. And, there below, was the small moon of Yavin IV, right next to its mother planet. "Wait—Han, you mean that we've…." Holly hadn't even seen it when she walked in.

"We haven't left orbit, no," he assured.

"But….why not?"

He shrugged. "Change of heart, I guess." Trying to play it cool. _I know you, Han,_ she thought, smirking inwardly. _You don't have 'changes of heart.'_

It must've been more than that. "Oh, really, was it?" she asked, incredulous. "Or Leia? Was it Princess Leia?" Clare had mentioned something about their romance, Holly thought. She hoped she wasn't mistaken.

"I dunno, probably," he admitted. Holly smirked. "Leia, Luke...you, too, if you'd have stayed."

"You never intended to leave at all?"

"Oh, no, I always intended to leave," he fiddled with a few buttons. "I just never expected not to _want_ to leave."

"So you actually want to stay? To help the Rebellion?"

He shrugged. "What about you?"

She considered for a moment before she had her definitive answer, one that she was certain would not change. "I'd be absolutely no use to the Rebellion. I just want to go back to take Luke up on his offer."

"Offer?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Before the….that station, whatever it's called—Luke said he'd help me get home."

Han nodded in understanding before he really thought about it, but once he actually did, he began to shake his head. "No, I don't get it. What do you mean? How would he help you?"

"I honestly have _no_ idea," she replied.

There was hardly enough room for the pause that ensued before a loud beeping interrupted what would have been an awkward silence. Han jerked to attention, straightening his back as his hands flew to the console. "What's that?" she questioned eagerly.

"It's spotted," he answered off-handedly.

" _What's_ spotted?"

"The Death Star. It's coming 'round planet—sensors picked it up," he explained as he jammed away at the controls.

Holly's eyes went wide. Death Star! She remembered something about that. Didn't it get blown up? Twice? She decided that it was useless to bother trying to remember the full story, choosing instead to focus her attentions on what would soon transpire beyond the glass.

"How soon until it's in our sight?" she questioned hurriedly. She wanted to see the Death Star—the thing that had so many people talking for so long. Well, it had Clare talking for so long. Either way, Holly couldn't remember what it looked like—and what better way to educate herself in Star Wars lore than to _live_ the Star Wars?

"Any moment now," he said, eyes glued to the screen on the panel. "Look—there it is."

Holly squinted to see the space station emerging from around the edge of the planet. The space station? _That_ was the Death Star? " _We_ were on the Death Star?"

Han nodded. "Yeah, it's what the Princess had the plans of."

Holly whistled. "Wow, this must've been part of the movie. Everything's coming together now," she muttered to herself.

"Excuse me?" Han asked, not hearing her.

"Oh, nothing," she said. He let the subject drop, choosing to focus on more pressing matters.

"Chewie! Ready the guns!" he shouted through the comlink. Holly heard Chewie's roaring response, and the _Falcon_ shot forward, shooting towards the large Borg Sphere-esque station.

Holly kept her eyes on the glass; it was better than seeing _The Hobbit_ in theatres the first time, and she didn't want to miss one moment. As their ship neared the station, Holly could see smaller ships flying around like bees—perfect replicas of the toys she'd seen in stores….

Wait. These _were_ the real things….

Oh, it didn't matter. What mattered was that it looked _bloody awesome._

"Chewie! Two o'clock!" Han shouted. Holly looked in that direction, seeing a huge turrets firing green blasts at the x-shaped swarming ships. Han swerved to avoid its fire and Holly rocked to the side, gripping her chair for support.

"Now, there's a TIE!" he yelled again. "Ten o'clock!"

The 'TIE' was basically a circle with two planes on the side functioning as, she guessed, wings. As Chewie was shooting at it, she assumed they were the 'bad guys' in this. There were three of them, now; flying in formation, the middle one looked different from the other two, and it lead them on.

The three enemy ships followed their prey, the final remaining rebel fighter, into the crevice circling the middle of the Death Star. Han swooped the ship lower, training his sensors on the right-side enemy ship.

"Fire, Chewie!" he yelled.

A blast came from the _Falcon_ itself and Holly stared, awe-struck, as it hit its target, blasting the enemy ship to smithereens. This, in turn, made the left-side TIE collide with the side of the crevice, the force of its collision sending the smaller central ship spiraling out of control.

Holly grinned and Han yelled "Woohoo!" with the most excited smile on his face she had ever seen him wear. "You're all clear, kid! Now, let's blow this thing and go home!"

Holly started. "That's Luke?!" she exclaimed. In that rebel ship was _Luke?_ Her heart stopped as she realized how dangerous his situation was. That revelation was quite stupid, as they had been in a dangerous situation ever since they left Tatooine, but Luke's own ship had nearly been blown to bits by that fighter….Holly gripped the seat tightly, praying that he'd turn out alive.

"That's him," Han agreed. He yanked the controls upward as if it were a joystick just as the rebel fighter shot its last two shots at the Death Star—Luke's ship, sending the shots that would blow it up. Everything grew quickly smaller as each remaining ship retreated, Luke's included.

Holly just stared a moment, waiting for something to happen. Had something gone wrong? And then—

It exploded.

The spectacle was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The station burst into a huge cloud of colored gasses, rings of debris rocketing outward. Holly's face grew grim, however, when it dawned on her just how many people must've been on that ship. She looked down at her pants, which she had gotten from the Death Star itself, and thought of the officers who had died—

But they'd have done no different to her and her friends, given the chance. They were going to blow the entire rebel base to bits if the rebels hadn't done it first.

Holly shoved the remorse she felt out of her mind.

"Great shot, Kid, that was one in a million!" Han spoke to Luke through the com. Holly wanted to be able to add something, but even if she had a headset, she couldn't come up with anything to say that wouldn't require a really lengthy explanation.

She just grinned even wider at Han, her heart swelling with pride for the smuggler, and even more for the farm boy-turned-pilot in the neighboring ship.

42.

Everyone was swarming the ship when Holly, Han, and Chewie rounded the corner of the hangar. Holly, her dislike of crowds growing exponentially, lagged behind as Han rushed forward to greet Luke, Chewie in his wake.

She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled at the blond boy, not caring that he didn't notice her. He gripped his sister in a tight, joyful embrace, both of them beaming.

"Hey, hey!" Han yelled once he was within earshot. It was difficult to hear, though, with everyone clapping.

"I knew you'd come back! I just knew it!" Holly could see his eyes searching behind Han, looking for her, but they didn't find her immediately.

"Well, I wasn't gonna let you get all the credit and take all the reward," Han tried to excuse.

"Hey, I knew there was more to you than money!" Holly heard Leia laugh.

Luke continued to look around. "Wait, where's—Holly, come on over here!" Luke's eyes found her hanging behind and waved her over. Holly smiled sheepishly at her feet, grudgingly approaching him. After their last exchange of words, Holly wasn't too sure Luke would want her to come back.

She was in for a surprise. His arms pulled her in for a tight hug, his laugh reverberating through his chest. Holly awkwardly patted his back, not really used to these exchanges of pleasantries. "Thank you," he murmured sincerely in her ear. "For coming back."

"I—" she began to explain, but the princess cut her off.

"I'm even glad you returned," she smiled and hugged her.

"Gee, thanks," Holly replied sarcastically. Honestly, she was surprised that Leia was even speaking to her.

"I never thought either of you would really leave!"

As Holly started to feel uncomfortable in the middle of the rambunctious crowd, Luke's eyes fell upon the beaten up R2 unit. "Oh, no!" Holly cringed when she saw, as well. If the droid had nerves, he'd be in agony.

3PO waked up to R2. "Oh, my, R2! Can you hear me? Say something!" He turned to a nearby mechanic when the droid remained silent. "You can repair him, can't you?"

"I'll get to work on him right away," the man chuckled as he looked over the droid.

"You must repair him! Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I'll gladly donate them," 3PO begged.

"He'll be all right," assured Luke.

Holly approached the droid as the other three waked swiftly away. Luke sent her a look, but she motioned towards C-3PO wordlessly.

"I'm sorry I was about to leave, 3PO," Holly tried to apologize.

The golden droid turned to her. "I am quite surprised, really," he started, "that you were going to leave us behind."

She smiled shyly. "So am I, to be honest. You know, I don't even know why I really decided what I decided. I should've stayed here all along."

"I'm very grateful you and Captain Solo decided to return," he said. "I'm afraid R2 would have rather missed you."

"Sure," she grinned. "And what about you?"

"I'd have survived," he stated, as if it were obvious.

Holly chuckled.

42.

So, as you can see, we're almost to the end. Literally one more chapter until we embark on the 3-year mission to explore new life and new civilizations...until ESB rolls around. I don't know how much time that'll take, just that it will be _far_ fewer chapters than this. And, at the beginning, what do you think those two 'entities' are talking about? It's probably obvious, but I'm still curious. By the way, I pictured that doctor as Shepard from Firefly.

Reviews!

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: Yep, the Death Star is now blown up! During the few chapters that will span the time in between Episode IV and V, I'll cover the other things you mentioned; I think it's a good opportunity for character development. It'll establish some of the Luke/Holly stuff, as well as her thoughts towards her home...Thanks for reviewing!

Himeno Kazehito: Hope this didn't disappoint!

myharlequinromance321: Yep, I'm both looking forward to and dreading that little scene in Hoth with Luke and Leia...Holly really should've seen the movies. I'm glad you like her involvement so far; I hope you equally enjoy how the characters grow and interact in the future.

EGGS: That would be an interesting aspect to explore...maybe sometime in the future. Rest assured, though, that Vader doesn't think highly of her in _any_ regard, ha. Thank you for the review!

Sardhrantor: Both characters do need some time to warm up to each other, yes, especially given their conflicting views. Thank you, by the way, for telling me the grammatical errors; I know I always miss a few!

pettxmon: Wow, thank you! I always dread major characters being off, especially in my own works. I did sort of wish Leia and Holly would get along, but I could never make it feel right. And it's really tricky to plan out her confrontations with Luke...I'm not to sure about the one from this chapter, for example, though it was very integral for the story, and I don't want any romantic stuff to come too quickly and unbelievably. And you're right, Holly isn't flying any X-Wings...but she didn't plan on being anywhere near the battle, though, which is what ultimately happened. I hope it all feels like it fits-Thanks for your review; it really made my day!

See you all in the next chapter!


	16. Chapter 16

Hi! Back again, this time earlier! This chapter just sort of ties off some loose ends (though not _every_ loose end, but don't worry; I'll come to those) and now, I think I know what exactly authors mean by 'filler' chapters. But, it marks the end of _A New Hope_! I'm looking forward to _Empire_ , but first, I do have to address that unfortunately long amount of time between the two movies...anyway, onto the chapter!

Chapter 16:

All of the people standing before them were mind-boggling. To Holly, this was worse than speaking onstage in her high school auditorium; there were just _so many_ of them. The rebel troops all stood in symmetry at attention, facing the aisle diligently, as if the only differentiation between them were their locations.

Holly supposed it was some consolation that she didn't have to stand in plain view. The girl lingered at the back of the platform, standing behind R2 and 3PO, while Leia and a select few high-ranking officers stood in a circle around the Princess and a man called General Dodonna.

She tried to look as unnoticeable as possible in the standard grey jumpsuit she had been issued; thankfully, Holly had been given a small room, shared with two other women, neither of whom she had yet met. Holly had taken the opportunity to shower and change, careful not to agitate the fresh bandages on her arm.

The doors on the other end of the cement slab slid open. Out strode Luke, Han, and Chewie, each looking, in their own right, happy and nervous simultaneously. Luke had changed into a horrid yellow jacket, which she cringed at, but tried not to notice for etiquette's sake. Holly beamed at them, though they did not notice her; she didn't care, she was happy all the same. That group had saved her life, and that was all she needed from them.

Every trooper turned to the front in unison; Holly heard the uniform sound of their feet, and Han's face broke out in a grin. Luke met his sister's gaze and smiled.

Holly crossed her arms and continued to beam at them as they were bestowed their medals. She gave the princess an odd look that nobody saw when she stopped at Han and Luke. What, did Chewbacca not get one? He plaid a bigger part in the rescue than Holly did; he really deserved a medal.

Holly could not say that she wasn't offended by being ordered to the back with the droids before the ceremony officially begun; everybody (meaning the newcomers) had been informed of what events were to transpire, and when the Princess mentioned an awards ceremony, Holly could honestly say that, while she was disappointed by being blatantly ignored, she hadn't expected much honor to be paid to her anyway. All she did was land herself with an injury, for all the Princess new.

R2 beeped beside her, causing the surrounding men to take a step aside, allowing the jittery droid to see his master. That was when Luke and Han saw the three of them, and Luke chuckled in happiness at R2's continuing functionality. His gaze lingered on Holly for a moment, as if in pity; was he pitying her because she did not get a medal? The attention she got was more than she wanted, much less deserved. Holly have a tiny shake of her head as if to say, 'don't worry about it.'

Every onlooker began to applaud.

42.

There was to be a celebration that evening in courtyard. Everybody who mattered was invited; those who piloted the X-Wings, the generals, Leia, and the heroes. Holly, too, was invited, but she seriously considered staying in her room (well, it wasn't really hers, but that was all she had) and sleeping until the next year came, whenever that happened to be.

Holly hadn't really gotten a chance to rest since she first set foot on Tatooine, so she desperately craved a warm bed and many, many undisturbed hours. After Leia had announced the celebration to Luke, Han, and herself, Holly tried to fall asleep on the vacant upper bunk.

She would have, too, if someone hadn't knocked on the door.

Holly had half a mind to simply ignore whoever was at the door, but with their continued persistence, she grudgingly pulled herself out of bed. Yanking open the door handle, she was greeted by an all-too-happy Luke.

He hugged her.

"Ah, get off me," she growled, half annoyed, half laughing. "You've hugged me once today already. That's _more_ than enough."

He pulled back and chuckled. "I haven't had any chance to talk to you, really, since we got here."

Holly tapped her chin. "No, actually, I specifically remember having an argument with you," she began, but he cut her off.

"I haven't been able to _really_ talk to you," he amended. "Not after the Death Star, and Ben…." His face grew somber, but that quickly subsided as he put on a grin again. "And arguing doesn't count."

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does." She smirked at Luke, who was about to argue further.

"No it—okay, if you don't really want to talk to me—" he turned as if to leave, but Holly slid the door behind him.

"Sorry," she said. "I'll stop."

He nodded, glancing around the room. "Nice quarters," he commented offhandedly. He looked as though he were about to say something more, but quickly clamped his jaw shut, rethinking.

"You're stalling," she observed. "What did you want?"

"Can't I just want to talk to you?"

Holly tilted her head in mock consideration. "Eh, no, not really. Everybody always had a _reason_ for what they do, and after all that's happened, I doubt you 'just want to talk.' And even if you did, I know a couple of droids who would have no qualms with listening."

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted. "I wanted to ask—what made you come back?"

"It would be easier to answer if I knew what made me leave in the first place," she muttered. That was untrue; she knew _why_ she left; Holly just couldn't believe she actually did it. Thinking back to what Luke said about 'thinking better of her', Holly realized that _she_ thought better of _herself_ , thus letting herself down when she just deserted them.

She decided that he deserved to know. "No matter what he said, Han never would have left."

"Would you have?"

"I thought so, and I fully intended to—but, Luke, I felt something that changed my mind," she said. "I really think I felt the Force." Luke wouldn't laugh at her for saying it like Han did, would he? "I mean, back on the _Falcon_ , right before takeoff—"

"You felt the Force?" he interjected excitedly. His eyes widened with mingled mirth and disbelief.

She nodded. "Eh, yeah. All of the sudden, like I got shot in the face."

"Have much experience with that?" he laughed, shaking his head. "But really….you felt it? Like you're a Jedi or something?"

"I really don't think people are _born_ Jedi," she said with an amused glint in her eye. "And anyhow, I'm _not_ going to be a Jedi. I'm now bloody terrified of lightsabers."

Luke grinned. "Aw, don't be," he said. "All they can do is cut off your hand." He mimed chopping off his right hand.

Holly remembered something about lost limbs and narrowed her eyes. "Please don't cut off your hand," she said. "I know the wound would cauterize, but it would still be disgusting."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you're afraid of blood," he teased at her expense. At the sight of her glare, he quit. "All right, okay. So you're no Jedi. But could you use the Force to get home?" He asked the last question somewhat reluctantly, a point that Holly did not fail to notice.

Holly seriously considered this. "I've no idea how….but I suppose I could try."

"'We,'" he corrected. "I'm going to help you. I won't go back on my promise."

Holly didn't want to bother him with her stupid situation; he'd go on to do great superhero things or whatever it was that the Jedi did. When he first made the promise, she didn't think he'd actually go through with it, but he seemed pretty adamant now….

"But you need to come on," he said, walking towards the door.

"What?" she asked. "Where?"

"The celebration, of course," he replied, as if she had actually been planning to go.

"Wait—no, Luke, I'm not going!" she tried to protest, but it was cut short when he grabbed her hand in his own and headed for the door.

"Yeah, you are," he assured. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let go. "You're not missing this."

42.

The party was absolutely _awful_.

This came as no surprise to Holly, who didn't like parties in general. She liked them even less when she was forced to attend, only to be forgotten at a table in the corner after a few moments. Really, Holly didn't mind being alone; she would have just preferred it if she could be alone elsewhere, doing much more important things, like sleeping.

Luke had gone off to find Han. Holly would have followed if she had enough courage to fight the dense crowd of rebels, but she wimped out and returned to guard their table once she lost sight of Luke.

"Hi," came a high-pitched voice from somewhere to Holly's left. Holly didn't recognize it.

"Hello," she said curtly, tilting her head ever so slightly to see the face of whoever had addressed her.

A tall woman quickly approached her table and sat down in the seat next to Holly. She was maybe a bit older, but not much, and had long, reddish-blond hair. In the dimly lit courtyard, Holly couldn't make out much of her face, aside for the fact that it struck her as fairly pretty.

She was taken aback by how quickly this woman took a seat at her table. What was it with people in this galaxy and stealing someone else's seat without permission?

"I'm Yvonne Dvorak," she introduced. "And you are….?"

"Holly," she replied hesitantly. "Holly O'Reilly." Yvonne smiled.

"Oh, how nice! I'm a mech engineer. Ensign. I've never seen you 'round before; what are you?"

Holly would have responded with, 'human, how 'bout you?' but she knew that wasn't what Yvonne meant. "Uh, well, I'm not really anything."

Yvonne smirked. "So you're in HR?"

Holly allowed herself to laugh at that. She wrung her hands awkwardly together and said, "Well, no. I just got here, see—with Luke Skywalker and Han Solo."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, you're friends with that hotshot pilot?" the smile on her face grew. "I think he's sort of cute. Could you set me up?" The playful smirk was only half joking.

Holly raised her eyebrows in alarm at the thought of setting anybody up, let alone Luke. He was just too….uh, not set-up material, she supposed.

"Oops, didn't know he was your guy." Her face still bore a smirk, though.

"What? Wait, no, you must be mistaken," Holly blushed. If she though the idea of setting Luke up with someone was weird, it was even weirder to imagine going out with him herself. "I'm not _with_ him."

Yvonne laughed. "Yeah, sure. You're just an amateur in the romantic field. Trust me, if I can't go after him, _you_ certainly will. I'll make sure of it."

A confused expression plastered itself on her face. "And how do you expect to be able to do that? Judging by the size of this base, it's likely we'll never cross paths again." And besides, she had only just met this woman. What right did she have to order around other people who weren't even associated with her? Was everyone here like that? If so, Holly began to think longingly of flying away aboard the _Falcon_.

Again, she laughed. This woman did a lot of laughing. "Oh, forgive me. Must've forgotten to mention; I'm Yvonne Dvorak, as you know, and if you'd have read the sign on the door, you'd know that I'm your new roommate."

Holly stared after the peculiar woman as she left. Her mouth hung open slightly; Holly wasn't sure if she _liked_ this Yvonne woman, but she'd have to share a room with her? Holly wasn't particularly keen on sharing a room with _anybody_ , much less someone she'd never before met. And it was safe to say that her first impression, while not remarkably bad, was not remarkably good in any sense, either.

Oh, Holly was being too hard on her. Yvonne couldn't be as bad as Holly was making her out to be. Holly just didn't like people much, especially when she hadn't met them before, and even more so when she was forced to be with them. Maybe this was how they'd all act, and she'd just have to put up with it anyway.

But what a strange way to act it was...yeah, Holly was just unlucky

People were like parties, she supposed. The lesser, the better.

42.

At least an hour passed. An excruciatingly long hour, filled with the sound of berating voices, over which no music could be heard. Holly did all of nothing but sit and zone, reminiscing over the homework she could have been doing had all of this never happened.

Her eyes lingered on someone standing with a large group of laughing men and women. It took her not-all-together-here mind a moment to realize that the someone was now walking towards her, and even longer to realize that it was 've helped if she had her glasses, but the one half that she could find was stuck in her hoodie, which was lying somewhere on her bed. Luke smiled and waved.

Oh, finally.

"Found Han?" she questioned, yawning and stretching her arms.

He nodded. "Fallen asleep, have you?" he joked.

"Yep. Tends to happen when I'm sitting here with nothing to do after I was dragged here against my will in the first place."

Luke smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Didn't know you'd just sit here the whole time."

"What more is there for me to do?" Holly questioned. "Nobody wants to talk to the outcast. I didn't do anything to help the precious princess, just stood back and jeopardized the mission, probably," she pointed out sourly.

Luke frowned at this. "You don't like the Princess?"

She laughed spitefully. "What, you expect me to _like_ her after she called me useless several times?"

Luke quieted. _Yep,_ she thought. _Got you there_.

"You're really not useless," Luke countered.

She nodded. "Yep, I know I'm best in my field at making you guys look infinitely cooler than you are." Holly eyed that horrendous yellow jacket pointedly.

He caught on and smiled despite himself, pinching an inch of the fabric. "What, you don't think this is cool?"

"It's the epitome of _un_ cool," Holly clarified.

He snorted into the drink in his hand and took a sip, then set the emptied glass down on the table. "So tell me about this 'Force' that you felt. Was it like what Ben described?"

"Not really sure," she mused, "but I suppose it could be. It was like….like a whole new dimension. Like never hearing anything, only to suddenly walk into a blaring theatre. Or adding a fourth exponent to the cubic measurement of the area of a sphere."

"I get what you're saying," he said. "I'm pretty sure that's what I felt earlier, with the remote, too. I could _see_ it, even with my eyes closed."

"Your own sixth sense…." Holly trailed off. "Wait, isn't there something you—" she then had to cut herself abruptly short.

She was going to say, _Isn't there something you Star Wars people can do, like lifting blocks?_ But Holly caught herself just in time. "So, how will this get me home?"

Luke looked down. "Er, well, that'll take some planning….and training…."

"You don't know how, do you?"

"How hard can it be? You said you were just walking down the street. Maybe we could find you a street and see what happens."

"What a foolproof hypothesis," she chuckled, though Holly couldn't help her shoulders sagging. No way home after all. Maybe she had Han should've gone, even if Holly could sense the Force.

Luke noticed. "Hey, I was only joking. We'll find a way. I promised, remember?"

"Great," she shrugged it off. "Where's Han?"

"Always about Han…." He muttered lowly. "Um….last I saw, he was talking with Leia." He looked around, finding the pair standing near the door, waving their arms angrily. "Well, arguing."

"I really don't think there's a discernable difference with the two," Holly commented.

The night droned on. Eventually, Luke grew bored with Holly's sullen demeanor once the conversation died, and the two of then disbanded, Holly heading for the exit to make her way to the dorm, and Luke to talk to 'Wedge, over there at the bar.'

No-one who knew her saw her leave. That was a good thing, because it meant that nobody could make her stay back. Weary from ignoring people for nearly an hour straight, she stumbled back to bed and fell asleep before the lights even went out.

42.

"Wave up, O'Reilly! It's Evac Day!"

"Oh, hush, Yvonne. I said wake her up, not the entire hall."

"S'Yana, come on, nothing else is getting her up! Maybe if I tell her that the pilot of hers is—"

Holly opened one drowsy eye. "What's Evac Day?" she grumbled.

"It's today, you dolt! And you've got to get up, or you'll still be here when the Imperials raid the moon."

Yvonne, the strawberry blond, was standing on her tip-toes, peering over the railing at the formerly sleeping Holly. Next to her was the top of somebody else's head, who Holly assumed to be her other roommate.

As Holly sat up, the other girl, who Holly assumed was S'Yana, sighed. "We're all leaving in an hour. Been trying to get you up since reveille…." She backed away as Holly jumped down from the top bunk. "I'm S'Yana Morta. You're Holly, I'd assume?"

"Yep," she yawned and rubbed her eyes. Holly didn't really need to pack anything; all of her stuff was still on the _Falcon_. Including Xenon….Holly flinched inwardly at how mad he'd be with her once he found her. "Where are we evacuating to?"

"Hoth," Yvonne grumpily replied.

"Hoth?" Holly repeated. "Sounds like an illness."

"It _is_ an illness," she moaned. "It's always frozen, ice everywhere….gonna be hell."

"Only after it's frozen over," commented S'Yana. "We're still gonna bunk together, the three of us, in case you were wondering."

"All right." Holly was really too tired to argue much, and even if she weren't there wasn't much more to say. "Do either of you know where I could find my friends?"

"Oh, you mean that _cute_ pilot and the smuggler with the Wookiee?" Yvonne clarified. "Or those two shoddy droids?"

Holly blushed at the first part; Luke wasn't cute (well, maybe a _bit_ ….but that was beside the point). The question, though, made her raise her brows. Shoddy? "Yes, all of them," she said.

Yvonne was about to say something, but S'Yana cut her off. "They're probably in the hangar, readying their ship."

"Thanks," Holly said. She coughed once, bolted out the door, and ran to the hangar.

42.

"Holly! Holly!"

The girl in question spun around, looking for whoever called her name. She heard Luke's voice, but amongst all of the pilots and other military personnel milling around, she couldn't spot him at first.

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and he was right behind her. She spun again, dizzying herself on accident. Luke steadied her and she chuckled. "Eh, sorry. Can't tell where anything's coming from with all these….people…."

"It's fine," he said. "But, hey, look. I forgot about these yesterday, but when we looked for you on the Death Star, I found these." He held up half of her glasses.

"Wow, thank you!" she exclaimed, taking them from his hands. "I'd become so used to squinting, I hardly noticed." She was not lying; Holly felt as though squinting were as natural as simply breathing or blinking. She only had to focus on it when she thought about doing so—it was odd that way. "Though they're still no use to me broken in two."

He scratched the back of his head. "I—well, I'd be willing to fix them for you, once we get to Hoth….that is, if you want me to, of course."

"You know how to fix glasses?" she asked skeptically. "Don't bother if you'll just put tape around the bridge; I liked the books, but I don't want to _be_ Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter….? Okay, no, I won't use tape. That wouldn't hold at all!" He seemed affronted that she would suggest such a horrid method of repair.

"Yeah, I'm just joking," she laughed. Of course he didn't get it; it was a reference to pop culture, after all. "I guess I'll let you _try_ once we get there, but don't touch the lenses. If those break, you can't fix it."

His face brightened into a smile. "Sure thing," he said. Wow, some people just get so happy with helping others. With a slight stab of guilt, Holly realized that she had never been like that.

42.

Holly was to ride onboard the _Falcon_ on their trip to Hoth. She was not surprised by this, nor was she disappointed. Han's ship had been volunteered by Leia (much to the pilot's displeasure) to carry a select few rebel personnel. The mass transports did not have enough room for everybody who did not have their own ship, and the excess had to make do where they could find transport.

Basically, that meant that around ten people would travel in the _Millennium Falcon_ , Holly included.

The passengers were randomly pulled from the database. Holly was with Han when Leia read out the names, and Holly only recognized two of the ten: Luke Skywalker and Ensign Dvorak.

"What's wrong with what's-her-name who's gonna be on the _Falcon_? That ensign?" Han questioned once Leia stalked away to supervise the loading of cargo onto other freighters.

"Huh? Yvonne?"

"Yeah, you cringed when her Worshipfulness said the name." Han began to move aside crates in the cargo bay of the ship—he didn't want anyone crowing around him in the cockpit on the flight to the ice planet.

"She's one of my new roommates," Holly explained as she helped him shove aside heavy crates. She didn't even want to know what was in there. "She's got it bad for Luke, apparently."

Han laughed. "Someone in their right mind likes _that_ kid?" Then he tilted his head to the side. "Hey, how'd you know that anyway? You read minds?"

Holly grimaced theatrically. "She _told_ me," she said, as if talking were the most heinous of crimes. "Wanted me to set them up."

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Sounds like she's desperate. Has to be, going after Luke."

Holly pressed her lips together. Luke wasn't _too_ bad; he was sort of cute, in his own way….

She shook those thoughts from her mind. "Oh, yeah? And what type of guy do you think girls should be interested in?"

"I dunno," he considered a moment. "Tall, handsome. Reckless, maybe—a real gun slinger."

Holly chuckled. "So you think every girl should be interested in _you_?"

He gave her a cheeky grin. "Ha, you think I'm handsome?"

"I think you've deluded yourself into thinking that," she crossed her arms. "And you're reckless—meaning you've no real brain to tell you what'll get you killed and what won't."

"Hey, I'm not the one who chased a droid down the hallway and then got captured by the _Imperials_."

Silence for a moment, then, "Touché."

She tried to push the last box into place like she had the other ones, but it would hardly budge. Bracing her shoulder against it, she tried to push with her legs, but that proved futile, as well. She glared at Han, who watched in amusement.

Holly heard new footsteps behind them, telling her that someone else was coming up the boarding ramp. "Hey, guys," came Luke's cheery voice.

Holly, struggling with the last box, only raised her eyebrows, though she knew he couldn't see. "Hey, Luke, could you give me a hand?"

He scrambled over to help her. He pushed it over easily, not even straining. "You know, you shouldn't do that with your shoulder." He motioned to her injured arm.

She shrugged. "I used the other side, it's fine," she said, rotating it as if to show how perfectly all right it was. That didn't go too well, because she ended up flinching.

"See?" he said gloatingly. "Han, what did you even have in this one anyway?" He kicked it lightly, testing how it sounded.

"Uh…." Han peered at it, scratching his earlobe. "Not sure, exactly. Can't remember."

"How long has it just been sitting here?" Holly asked. How can he have this huge box in his ship and _not_ know what's in it?

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed. "We're due to leave in less than an hour….people should be arriving soon."

42.

"How much longer is this?" Holly grumbled, thumping her head against the back of the seat.

After she saw the first trio of mechanics approaching the ship, Holly dashed to the lounge seat in the central room. She wanted to be able to get a seat as quick as possible, because she knew it'd be a long ride, and she didn't want to have to sit on the floor.

However, her plan of comfort was foiled when more than the estimated ten people arrived; she was now squashed between Luke and the edge of the seat. With the amount of people onboard, everyone was in each other's personal space.

Holly found herself quite envious of Han and Chewie in the cockpit.

"Holly, we've only been in hyperspace for fifteen minutes," Luke sighed exasperatedly. She groaned.

" _I thought you said this thing was fast_ ," Holly mocked, doing her best impression of a high-pitched teenager.

Luke nudged her shoulder. "I didn't say that."

"Yeah, you did," she countered. "If you didn't, how do you know I was quoting _you_?"

He chuckled in defeat. "All right, I said it," Luke admitted, "but I didn't say it like that."

"It's what I heard."

He sent her a sidelong glare. Holly laughed.

A silence fell over the two of them. Holly merely listened for a while to the hum of the ship, coupled with the multiple groups of jovially talking friends. How anyone could actually enjoy such a situation was beyond her, but the obvious camaraderie shared by these men and women was difficult to ignore.

She could see Yvonne in one corner, laughing with a group of men she had never seen before. Holly didn't care either way what the others were doing; none of them tried to speak to her, and she didn't disrupt them.

All was good, except for a little something praying on her mind. "Hey, Luke?"

He, too, had been zoning. "Hm?" he said nonchalantly. He sounded just as bored as Holly was.

"I know what you've said….about the Force, I mean, and everything else…." She trailed off, trying to come up with an articulate way to communicate her message without coming off as offensive and pessimistic, as she had before. "I mean, I'm really thankful that you've volunteered to help me with this, but I'm rather curious about what exactly it'll entail."

"Holly," he sighed. "You know that I don't know yet—"

"Yes, I get that," she pressed. "But we've got to start somewhere. There has to be a beginning. Maybe some research, I dunno. Whatever it is you Jedi people do. I was just wondering if you perhaps had some sort of plan of getting started, because _I_ don't have any idea how to go about this and you're the one who can use the Force and—"

"Holly, can you stop for a moment?" he cut off her rambling. She quickly clamped her mouth shut and avoided his gaze. "I know that you really want to get home, and you've been pestering me about it every change you get, so I haven't forgotten. But I'm afraid it may take a while."

She blinked and looked up at him. His eyes were sincere. "A while?" she echoed slowly. "How long do you mean, 'a while?'"

Luke ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Look, I don't know. Neither of us seem to have any idea what we're doing. And in case you haven't noticed, Ben's dead, so…." His tone had hinted at becoming harsh, so he took a deep breath and calmed. "Ben isn't here to help me. He left me with nothing to go on, nothing at all. So it may be a while."

Holly sympathized with Luke. She decided that she should tell him everything she had heard from Obi-Wan; he deserved to know. "Before he….before he went to Darth Vader, Obi-Wan told me a few things."

"Like?"

"He said that he couldn't help me anymore," she folded her hands in her lap. "He said I'd need to figure it out without _his_ help. I think he heard what you told me. And….he said that you need to keep trying, keep fiddling around with the Force or whatever you're doing….because he started you off, and you've got to keep it going." Holly realized how much she sounded like an irritating, all knowing adult who wouldn't tell you anything you needed to know. "I apologize, that was no help…."

"No, it wasn't; I'd assumed that already," he chuckled in spite. "But it was nice to know. To think that he said it….I'm not sure, it's oddly comforting, I suppose."

Another silence. None of their silences were especially awkward anymore; earlier, it had been so difficult to communicate with Luke. Perhaps there was such a barrier between them; he hadn't known anything about her before, and unlike Han, he actually seemed to have cared. And, afterwards, Holly had been so fearful that he would care too much that she didn't know anything, and how much trouble she could have gotten them into, but Holly relished in the thought that he didn't seem to blame her for anything now, even lying.

Now, though, it was almost comfortable. Almost.

"Holly?" It was his turn to strike up a conversation. His voice was quiet, as though he were timid.

"Yeah?" The surrounding voices dulled to a low drone, nearly blocked out.

"Why do you want to go home so badly?"

Holly turned her head to gape at him, mind reeling. Of course she wanted to go home! She had a family, a life, something that she had to return to. A place for her was on Earth, not wherever this is; she didn't belong here, that was painfully obvious.

He saw her expression. "Why can't you just stay here? I—I said earlier. I don't really want you to go."

She pursed her lips. She was touched that someone wanted her to stay….someone other than her droid and Chewie, that is (because the latter only liked her _because of_ her droid). But more than that, she was confused. "It's _home_ , Luke. This—" she motioned to the room and all of the people in it—"this isn't my home."

"But it _could_ be," he turned to Holly, shifting in his feet so his body, not just his head, was facing her. His next words were careful. "I can feel it when you think about your home. You feel sad, but not sad that you're not there. You're sad at the memory, and you were sad _in_ the memory….unless I'm _very_ wrong, you didn't really enjoy it there."

Holly's eyes widened in surprise. "Man, that is _so_ much more specific than mine," she whistled.

"Huh?"

"How do you know what I feel? How can you feel it?"

He shook his head, "I'm not really sure. It's just….there, when you're feeling something especially strong. I could feel your terror, back there with Vader. And your happiness, when we fought the TIEs. And such anticipation back on Tatooine. I can't explain it; I just assumed it was something to do with the Force. But what do you mean, 'yours?'"

"I think I can….sense, if that's the right word, when you're feeling something particularly, er, prominent, or noticeable, too."

"Huh. That's….that's a new development." Luke looked down at the seat for a moment. "But that means you can understand what I mean; I can tell you weren't happy back 'home,' not really."

Holly soured. "This could be your home," he repeated softly, looking into her eyes as if scanning for a trace of agreement. All he saw was reluctance. "If you'd let it. I said I'd help you find your place, Holly, and I mean it. But I don't necessarily intend for it to be where you came from."

Holly dropped her head into her hands. He wanted her to stay. Badly. She didn't know what exactly drove her to get home, if she was just holding onto what used to be. Maybe she just hadn't expected to be stuck here, and wasn't accepting it, whatever 'it' was….

Though Holly wanted to argue, her heart was deeply touched by Luke's words.

42.

There it is. Hope you guys like what happened, and what will happen soon. In the next chapter or so, I plan to address why exactly Xenon ran off like that a few chapters ago, and what Holly's going to do in the meanwhile...

Anyhow, onto the reviews:

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: About your first review, I'm not entirely sure what you meant, but if what I interpreted it as is correct, it could be a promising story if written well. And for the second one, Vader will certainly think _something_ of Holly...can't tell what, though. Of course Holly thinks of home a lot, because she had never really wanted to be in that galaxy in the first place. Don't worry, she may stop sometime.

SCE2AUX: Thanks. Yep, I did know of the time span; when I said fewer chapters, I meant that I won't go into precise detail about each thing that happens, like I did for the earlier part. I'll touch on certain aspects, and hopefully, it won't be too boring or anything.

Sardhrantor: I've at least updated before the weekend's over. That's an improvement. Glad you enjoyed the reference :)

Occoffo: Thank you! I always try my hardest to earn the top grade. Hope you liked this chapter too!

Thank you to all who reviewed, followed, favourited, or bothered to read this at all. Until next time!


	17. Chapter 17

I apologize profusely for the delayed updating. I don't have any excuse other than a week-long vacation, in which I went to MegaCon and, you know, only met Billie Piper and William Shatner. No excuse, as I said; it was only _William Shatner._

Anyway, happy reading!

Chapter 17:

Hoth proved to be every bit as unpleasant as Holly had been warned; the minute she set foot on the chilly ground, her entire body seemed to shiver, as though it knew that her life would be a new kind of frozen hell.

Come to think of it, only one planet she had been on was actually pleasant. And, technically, Yavin IV, of which she was speaking, was a moon anyway.

Life commenced quite calmly from that point on. After their arrival, Holly had been shown to her room; it was slightly smaller than the one she had stayed in before, though that did not seem to bother her. She knew that they must be pressed for space in such a climate as this. And she was thankful for everything being close together—the less time she had to spend in the cold, the better.

Holly thought she hated the heat, but she soon found out that she _loathed_ the cold.

Rooming with Yvonne and S'Yana had proved to be quite the challenge. The latter was alright, she supposed; S'Yana had not been the sort to impose herself upon Holly, respecting her need for space and alone time. Yvonne, however, posed a threat. A threat to her sanity, that is.

Every chance she got, Yvonne Dvorak spoke. She droned on and on about this and that, in such a tone that made it as impossible to understand as it was to ignore. Mostly she spoke to S'Yana, so Holly was spared the bother of answering her questions, but that did not mean that she was spared the bother of hearing her. Every night, she was kept up an hour later listening to the nosy woman's gossip and dirt on anybody and everybody—and hardly any of it was kind.

Her days were filled with tests. The Princess Leia did not know where Holly came from, nor did she ask; she merely dumped upon her numerous data pads of multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank questions—Holly felt less like she had been torn away from her town and her school and more like she had been transferred to perpetual, grueling school for subjects she could hardly comprehend.

Holly was taking the series of 'aptitude tests' that would tell those in charge what exactly Holly could do. At least, it showed them to what extent she was utterly incompetent.

The sections on history and astrography were completely pointless; she had no background knowledge to go on. Her results had evidently surprised Leia; she was convinced that Holly had not taken the tests seriously, about which she was correct. She had no idea where Coruscant or Kashyyyk (how many 'y's does one name need anyway?) were. She couldn't remember what 3PO said about the Outer Rim and the Central Planets, and for the life of her she couldn't list any historical dates for _any_ planet.

Leia scolded Holly for thinking the entire test a joke. "Do you even _know_ what we are?" she demanded one afternoon when Holly handed back one data pad on the Galactic Republic.

"A Rebel Alliance?" she answered, unsure of why she was being asked. It was obvious what these soldiers were doing.

"Then you should know how important this is!" the Princess spat, gesturing to the data pad. "You must start to take this as something other than a joke!"

"I'm sorry," Holly said, realizing what Leia meant, "but I'm not joking. Honestly. I'm not proud of this, but I have no idea what half of those things are."

"How can somebody be so….so ill-informed?" Leia huffed rhetorically, crossing her arms in irritation. "You're either really determined to cause us trouble or you've lived underneath a rock your entire life!"

"You know, for all that it matters, I have!" Holly answered. She didn't know what she was supposed to tell the Princess; making up some other bizarre story did not sound too promising. But how would Leia react to a tale such as hers?

"Then where did you come from? This is just unbelievable. You have to at least know when the Empire was founded!" So much for not asking her origins. Leia did deserve to know, she supposed, being basically the leader of the place she had taken residence, but Holly was nowhere near comfortable telling her.

Holly tapped her chin, trying to remember. "Twenty-seven BC? Maybe thirteen-hundred-ish AD? All depends on which empire." Though it certainly wasn't Roman or Ottoman.

" _The_ Empire, of course!" At Holly's expression, which bore no understanding, Leia sighed. "All right, fine! If you won't act as though these matter to at least _someone_ , I won't argue. Just take the rest of these tests. If you don't show any….aptitude in _anything_ , we'll just stick you in sanitation!"

With that, Leia shoved a new data pad into Holly's hands and stalked off.

Taking one glance at the content, Holly was sure she'd do _much_ better on this section.

Holly had shadowed an electrical engineer at the local state college before this entire fiasco, and she was lucky to have retained much of the information she obtained during that time (plus, it was something she just had an interest in); it proved to be a great aid in this section, for it was largely on electricity and mechanics. Common sense, really.

She was lucky that the universal symbols for switches, batteries, resistors and the like were, in fact, universal—the diagrams were all completely understandable. Holly could give educated answers, as well, because she actually _knew_ this stuff.

The other sections on the principals of astronomy; though she couldn't name the location of anything specific, she knew what physics made everything work. Gravity, electromagnetism, weak and strong interaction...stuff like that. She knew how stars and solar systems worked, as well as _some_ other celestial bodies. Most of what she knew about black holes was merely speculation, as was the exact size of the universe; however, they didn't seem to care how big the whole universe was, but rather were just concerned with the galaxy.

Of course, she hadn't hardly anything to go on for the 'hyperspace' section, but she decided to wing it and apply _Star Trek_ 's warping principal.

If she passed those sections, it _would_ only reinforce Leia's opinion that she was playing dumb for the rest of them, but Holly couldn't care less. She was just too happy that she actually had a clue what they were talking about.

The biology tests were similar. It was basically common sense—she was human, like most of these people—but she wasn't an expert in the field, and there were a few things that through her off. Mainly, the aliens she had to know about.

Mathematics, of course, was a breeze. Of course, they didn't expect anyone to know much advanced math—things that she hadn't covered in school were few and far between.

"Looks like you've quit with the games," Leia remarked the next day.

"Nope," Holly replied, "I just know some stuff."

Leia gave her an odd look but let the subject drop.

A few more tests continued over the course of the next few days, most of them about the most menial of tasks. First aid, which she supposed was pretty important, but there were so many alien terms she didn't know. Then, there was something about piloting.

Leia soon informed Holly adamantly that she would never, _ever_ be allowed anywhere near a ship.

Holly was grateful; she's end up crashing before she even got off the runway.

Leia was correct in one thing; her focus wasn't solely on the tests, as she had requested them to be. Something was quite...distracting. Or, rather, the distinct _lack_ of something; she couldn't feel the nearly constant pressure on her shoulder, nor could she hear the incessant chattering and hum of her little spider droid as he sat on her shoulder.

She hadn't seen Xenon since they left Yavin.

She found Han—who was trying to fix that rubbish bin he called a ship. Holly understood what Luke meant about the _Falcon_ being 'a piece of junk'; once she saw the other transports, the ship paled in comparison. That did not, however, diminish Holly's high opinion of the ship that had first brought her into space.

He let her search the _Falcon_. That must have meant a great deal for him; she knew how dearly he loved his ship. The fact that he let someone he meat not long ago search what was basically his house without supervision told Holly a great deal about whatever sort of trust they had established.

Holly could not find him. She must've searched for hours, but nothing came of it; she recovered her bag from the air vent, but that was the only thing she found that was of any interest.

After a while, Holly's feet grew tired. She found a corner in a hallway and slid to the ground, holding her bag in her lap. She rummaged through it idly, just wasting time for a while.

The sound of metallic clanking reached her ears. It was light, barely audible. The familiar sound was the very one that she had been looking for—it was the sound of the moving mechanical limbs of Xenon.

Holly quickly turned in the direction of the sound, excitement spiking. This really was him, was it, and not just another one of the _Falcon_ 's sounds? It certainly sounded like her droid.

"Xenon?" she walked slowly down the corridor, following the noise. She didn't want to lose the sound of it, for it was quiet. It must've been close if she could even hear it at all. But as she continued down the corridor, it soon transpired that her bug was not standing close by.

The clicking grew louder. Now that she could hear it more clearly, she could discern a slight difference, which seemed to grow with every step she took. It was no longer the same hum and click that she had grown accustomed to; rather, it sounded more like it was being amplified. Deeper, resounding.

What? How was that possible?

As she checked one corridor that branched off from the main one, Holly idly realized that her trek felt like one in Skyrim, when her character just followed the location pointer.

Her imagined pointer led her to the cargo bay. Han was already there, kneeling in front of one of his metal crates. "You heard it too?" Holly questioned.

No wonder, it was deafening now. "Obviously," he said, shaking his head as if to ward away the sound. "I'd be surprised if the entire planet didn't avalanche because of it."

Holly scoffed. Only Han would suggest that a whole planet could avalanche.

"What is it? Did you find it in one of those crates?" Holly motioned towards the large pile of boxes he had.

"Maybe," he said. "It's the sort of sound that….echoes, ya know, in that weird way, right? Can't tell where it's from 'til you're there." Han continued to rummage through boxes quickly, tossing them aside once they were opened.

"Would you like my help? It's my lost droid after all." She made her way towards a box on the other side, preparing to help.

"Eh—no, no, stop," Han urged quickly. Holly halted.

"What?"

"Um, well, you know how I said a while back that I don't remember what's in these boxes? Yeah, well, could be dangerous. Old jobs that I couldn't finished. Hopefully forgotten, but maybe important. You never know what's inside one of these crates—I must've got a decade's worth."

Holly backed away. "If you say so," she said. "But…..how _long_ have you been doing this?"

Han rubbed the back of his neck. "Not really sure," he said. "Started real young—a bit younger than you, I'd guess. Hey, how old are you anyway?"

"Seventeen," she said.

Han blew out lightly. At her inquisitive look, he said, "You look older."

Holly refrained from asking exactly how old he thought she was when the metallic buzz and clanking grew infinitely louder for a split second, before it was immediately dulled down with a loud snap.

Han had found the source. When it was revealed to be deafening, he slammed the lid back on.

"Be back in a moment," he said. "Hearing protectors would be helpful for this situation."

Holly quickly agreed and waited for his return, stepping slowly closer to the box. How could Xenon have gotten into one of these crates? And _why_ would he want to? And, most importantly, what was making the sound?

"Watch out," Han called as he stepped back into the cargo bay, tossing Holly a pair of ear muffs. "Pilots use these. Cancels out everything but the radio that's built in," he explained.

So they'd be able to talk to one another. "Alright." She slid the ear muffs over her ears and watched eagerly as Han cracked open the lid.

Inside was something she'd not seen before on the ship. It was a box in itself, but the outside resembled more a Borg Cube than anything else. It wasn't as big as the crate, with some space on the side. The crack in between the wall and the cube was the place from which Xenon then crawled—Holly grinned wickedly when she saw her bug, and the screeching must've stopped, because Han slid off his hearing protectors.

Holly followed suit. Xenon crawled to her, chirping excitedly as he greeted his human friend once more. "Xenon!" she exclaimed happily. "What's gotten into you?" she cooed, as if talking to a pet dog, both scolding and laughing simultaneously. "You've run off more than enough."

Han was picking up the Borg Cube and examining it. There was no green tractor beam shooting out to reel him in, so she figured it wasn't _actually_ a Borg ship. But, seeing as she had nothing else to go on, she settled for than name, for now. "D'you know what it is?" she asked.

Han held it up to eye level. "Eh," he hesitated, unsure. "It's….um, maybe some sort of transmitter….or radio, sound amplifier." He looked up at her, an apologetic look on his face. "Honestly, I can't help you. If it were part of my ship, I'd tell you in a heartbeat. But I've never seen anything like this before…."

"Do you know who could?"

"I'm sure your droid could," Han muttered. Then he spoke louder, "But he doesn't talk regular Binary. We'll have to have one of the engineers check it out."

"I can take it to them," Holly said. "I'm apprenticing under a couple." She left off the part where they were a couple of incompetent fools. They still probably knew more than she did about this.

"Be careful," he warned as he dumped the cube into her arms. Her back nearly cracked when he let go. "It's heavy."

"I'd have never guessed," grumbled Holly as she stomped awkwardly away with her burden. "Come on, Xenon."

42.

Once Holly dropped off the strange Borg Cube off with her engineering instructors, Officers Simmons and Aurseep (what kind of last name is Aurseep anyway?), she was told that "Identifying something this complex may take a while."

That basically meant, 'You brought us something. And since it's _you_ who brought it, we're not too worried about any time schedule you may have,' which also meant, 'We'll take as long as we can.'

Simmons and Aurseep were bound to be working together to make her life as inconvenient as they could, every chance that they could. Keeping her working and studying longer, sending her to fetch parts in the coldest and farthest reaches of the base….

Holly wanted to crush their tracheas sometimes.

In the meanwhile, Holly's relationship with the droids had grown. In between her lessons with various engineers, Holly spent plenty of time with 3PO and R2, sometimes just talking. She enjoyed their company. Other times, the two of them taught Holly 'Binary,' the droid language R2 spoke. It was difficult to understand and one must certainly have an ear for it in order to fully grasp the diction and pronunciation, but it was basically what it said: binary, just fancier. Though the binary that she knew was a language made solely up of ones and zeroes, the droid's language included an entire array of sounds and pitches, compiled with beeps that she _may_ one day be able to distinguish.

As of right now, Holly mixed up "Fix the compression matrix before it causes an overload," with "Sing an analytical system instead of letting it drown."

In time, Holly was sure she'd become fluent.

In a _long_ time.

Then, in the midst of everything else she had to deal with, there was Luke.

To be honest, Holly tried to spend as much time with him as she could. As of now, they carefully skirted around the subject of Earth, and neither of them had begun to seriously consider the Force—collaboratively, that is; Holly was certain the Force plagued both of their minds, but neither mentioned it. The subject was rocky ground, something with which neither of them were quite comfortable.

She could tell that Luke desperately yearned to tell someone about it. With Holly being apparently 'linked' in some way, she would have been the perfect person to speak to, but Luke held their arguments in mind; home was a touchy subject, and it seemed that everything about it was linked to the Force.

Holly thought about home often. Except now, her thoughts were different; everything had to do with both places, here and there. While she was here, what was going on there? When she got there, what would happen here? Why did she want to get back there when she had always dreamed of a place like this?

It was true, this galaxy was basically everything Holly had always wanted. A fictitious life beyond a TV screen—something she could actually experience. So why did she really want to get back home?

Holly couldn't answer. Luke was right; she really was much happier here.

One afternoon about a week and a half after finding Xenon, Holly and Luke were sitting next to one another at a table in the mess hall. Han and Chewie had once sat across from them, but the former went to argue with Leia and Chewie gravitated towards the Han, despite the arguing.

That left Holly and Luke by themselves. Neither spoke, though Holly inferred by the incessant tapping of his fingers on the grey tabletop that Luke wanted to talk.

After the tapping became too distracting to ignore, Holly sighed. "What's wrong?"

"What? No, nothing's wrong, no." Luke looked down at his plate of food, focusing on that instead of her. She noticed that the tapping ceased, being replaced by his knee bouncing.

"Yes, it is," she said. "You keep fidgeting."

It was his turn to sigh. "All right, I suppose," he conceded. "But it doesn't matter." At Holly's raised brow, he shook his head. "Well, the thing is, we're not talking."

Holly knew what he was probably getting at, but she decided to play dumb. "Oh, so what is this, then? Are we singing at each other or something? Or maybe—" she leaned closer and grinned conspiratorially, "—telepathic communication?"

"No, be serious. I mean, we never talk about what's _important_! About what Ben said, and what you said earlier!" His voice rose slightly in irritation.

Holly bit her lip. She'd hoped to postpone this conversation a little bit more. Holly knew what was coming; it was something she had mapped out in her head many nights while she tried to fall asleep, and it wasn't something she looked positively forward to.

"Sorry," she apologized for being difficult. They were both silent for a moment, Holly trying to formulate an articulate sentence and Luke waiting eagerly for her response. Scratching her head nervously, she decided to just come clean with the last conclusion she'd reached. "I've thought about it," she began uncertainly.

"And?"

"Well….I changed my mind a lot." As if to prove that point, the answer that she was going to give changed twice at that moment. "But….what I've come up with is…." She took a deep breath and stalled. "Or, what my mind is _currently_ set on….anyway, I've decided that you're right."

He grinned in relief before a thought struck him. "About what? You, the Force, what?"

Holly let her gaze wander as her thoughts did likewise. "I suppose you were right about a lot of things. Convenient, it seems," she added lowly. "Turns out you're right about the Force thing—we knew that. I told you, I felt it. But what you said back on the _Falcon_ about getting home….Sometimes, I think that you're completely correct in your analysis of the situation."

"How so?" he asked cautiously, waiting for her to elaborate.

Holly decided that if she was going to tell him, she may as well do it properly. "Back on earth, living somewhere else had always been my dream. I wanted to be in a spaceship, on an alien planet, or with the extraordinary heroes you read about and watch on television. And it's almost like I'd been given the opportunity to actually share in that adventure, here, with you—it's what I'd always wanted. And I figured, why argue it?"

He grinned from ear to ear and his eyes lit up in happiness. "So you've decided to stay?"

"For two reasons," she said. "One: It's great here. Now, when I don't have to run from everything and everybody like I did before. Yes, it's as cold as Windhelm on this planet, but without evil Stormtroopers trying to kill us….I suppose it's pleasant."

"Not everything in this galaxy is as dangerous as the Death Star," Luke agreed, still grinning. Holly appreciated how much he actually wanted to her to stay—it was a feeling she was not accustomed to. "You just got the wrong first impression."

"I suppose. And then there's reason two: I'd not have gotten home anyway," she laughed. The minute she said it, Holly regretted the statement; it was exactly what Luke didn't want to hear.

Luke's smile fell in to a thin line, surprising Holly with how easily he could switch tones of conversation. "You mean you don't believe in the Force even now? After all that Ben said, after all you saw, and what you felt? As if the whole thing meant nothing to you, you just dismiss it."

"No! No," she protested. "That's not what I mean at all. I just mean that….I don't think we could actually do it with the Force," she clarified. "Send me home. It's something we don't know enough about; it's a problem that we don't have every variable for. We don't even have the equation!"

"I hope you're not just giving up," he warned.

"I'm really not," she assured. "Come on, why are you arguing? You wanted me to stay. I want to stay. Everything's fine now."

"I guess," he conceded. After a moment, he asked, "Does this mean you'll help me to understand it? I haven't gotten far on my own."

"How far is 'not far'?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I've _tried_ to feel things with the Force," he said.

So he hadn't gotten anywhere. "At least we'll start with a blank slate," she remarked.

42.

The weeks seemed to draw on painfully slowly. It was difficult for Holly to handle; she had always had a clear idea of what she wanted to do, of where her life would bring her. Now, though, she had no means by which to decide her own fate—nothing could prepare her for anything that was to happen, no matter how significant or insignificant that thing was.

She was being pulled along by the authorities—not literally, of course, though it was as good as; Holly was surprised that she was even allowed to stay on the rebel base, since she was basically a random girl with no background. But Leia pulled strings and got her into an apprenticeship of sorts with a couple of engineers. The Princess controlled her life now, basically. Work with him, do this, fix that, learn how to build this—it was the only thing she was good at, so she was determined to suck every ounce of usefulness out of Holly that she could.

Holly didn't like the engineers she had to work with. They did things wrong. One of them couldn't solder correctly; he couldn't even pronounce the word. The other probably didn't even know what it was—when Holly asked why she had a soldering gun without solder, all the older woman had done was give her a blank look and reply, "This is what you solder with."

Holly wondered if Leia gave her the worst mentors on purpose.

The silver lining in her stay here was the time she was allowed to spend with her friends. She hadn't really expanded her group of acquaintances, so her human interaction was rather limited, but when she could just talk with Han comfortably, banter with 3PO about this and that, and try to learn R2's language, she couldn't be happier.

Well, that was a lie. She was happier in the late hours of the night—she wasn't technically supposed to be out after curfew, but that was the only time she could talk to Luke. Slipping through her door after her roommates stopped paying attention to her, Holly would simply walk around like she was going where she was supposed to be and nobody questioned her.

Luke worked a busy day. He was quickly climbing the ladder of whatever track he was on—she knew it had something to do with piloting X-Wings, but that was it. It took up most of his time; when she finally got a chance to talk to him, he was often distracted or tired, except on occasion.

This was one such occasion. They had a meeting place for discussion of the Force. That must be the only reason they keep in contact with one another, to try and understand it. They weren't making much progress.

Holly sat in a frigid storage unit. She huddled close to herself for warmth, staring at the spare droid and ship parts while she shivered and waited for Luke's arrival.

Pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulder, Holly rubbed her hands together. These storage units weren't heated, because nobody stayed there long—that was precisely why it was an ideal meeting place. Nobody would come and tell them to get to bed as if they were small children.

Footsteps came barreling towards her from down the hall. She could tell by how haphazard and quick they were that it was Luke running—no, jogging—along the iced floors.

"Sorry I'm late!" he said as he turned the corner. Holly rose and walked to him.

"It's fine," she dismissed. They got into their routine.

Said routine consisted of mostly procrastinating; neither had a clear view of where to start, so finding other things to occupy the little time they could spend together was what largely took place.

Tonight, however, was different. Holly got off-track and began drumming her fingers against the ice, scraping while they talked. Then Luke abruptly silenced his rant about his friend's flakey co-pilot.

"What's wrong?"

"I—I just had a thought." His response was quiet and slow, as if the 'thought' was not quite processed yet. Then he began again with a new vigor. "Back on Tatooine, Ben told me about the Force. He told you basically the same thing later, on Han's ship. He said that the Force…..I dunno, goes through everything. The way he said it made it sound like an….infestation, inside of each object. And the Jedi can control it!"

Holly raised an eyebrow. "So you think you can control objects through the Force?"

He nodded adamantly. "We should be able to," said Luke. "If we can sense the Force and use it, what's there to say that we can't manipulate it too? You heard what Ben said about the Force following your command. I could just tell it to move something!"

Holly laughed. "All right, then," said she. "Tell it to move….that wrench over there, if you think you can."

"I bet I can." He turned to face the table in the corner, focusing on the small object Holly had pointed out. He looked at it for a really long time.

Right when Holly thought he was going to breathe out and look away in defeat, Luke decided to look at it some more.

And then a bit longer.

Seconds ticked by.

Nothing happened.

Luke's blank face faltered. When the object continued to sit there, unmoving as if it were mocking him, his eye twitched in frustration. He let out a frustrated moan.

"Oh, come on!" he turned abruptly back to Holly, lowering his gaze.

"Maybe the Jedi don't move objects with their mind," she said. "Maybe they do other stuff like...um….see the future. Or maybe they have laser beam vision! That'd be useful."

Luke sent her a pointed look. "Or," she continued, "this is all a lie. Maybe, there is no spoon." At his confused expression, she giggled. "Sorry, wrench. There is no wrench. How did the line go? Don't bend the spoon, that's impossible. Realize the truth….something like that. Reality is only what you perceive it to be."

"What are you talking about?" Luke's tone was confused and lightly amused.

"I'd try to explain, but I'm not sure you'd understand," she crossed her arms and stuck her nose up in the air snottily. "Such things as televisions are….far to advanced for the likes of you."

He knew she was joking. "Then explain them to me," he played along. "And please tell me how all of this relates to the Force."

She grinned. "Well, you see, when the high class such as myself are bored, we don't want to _talk_ to people like peasants, and we don't want to have to do anything else. So we made something that all people can enjoy, high class and peasants alike! The television. Where you can watch people with inflated egos pretend to be whatever their employers want them to be!" she said in an excited advertising voice.

"That makes absolutely no sense."

Holly explained briefly what a television was. Then, she told him about the Matrix; nothing is real and spoons don't exist, all that good stuff.

"You know what?" he said after a moment. "I think I've figured something out about you."

"And that is….?"

"Well, I used to think that you were crazy. But now I know that _everyone_ over there is completely insane, not just you."

She gave him a playful shove. "You're just mad that we've got better imaginations," she teased. _We have to. Someone where I'm from imagined you, didn't they?_

That thought sent her mind into a frenzy. Luke kept talking, but Holly zoned.

She knew that this was all a movie. Now, even if Obi-Wan and Luke had believed that Holly was from somewhere nobody heard of, where hardly anything they knew overlapped or made any sense, that didn't necessarily mean that they would believe the _rest_ of her outlandish tale.

Their lives were a movie. Holly had never even seen them yet she still knew that each event, each character, was plucked and dissected by the fans of those movies in ways the writers had probably never intended. Nothing was private in their lives. And Holly probably knew the biggest events: Luke and Leia were siblings and Darth Vader was their father.

Obviously, nobody else knew this. Luke and Leia kept it all pretty hush-hush; there had undoubtedly been some dispute that forbid them from living on the same planet before this rebellion. And Holly was most definitely not supposed to know that.

And, furthermore, Holly wasn't supposed to know that Vader was their dad. Honestly, who would want to publicize the fact that the evil tyrant that lorded over the galaxy was their father? Luke would hate her if he knew that she was fully aware of his parentage.

Holly wasn't surprised; she certainly wouldn't be happy if someone whom she had never met before just automatically knew her deepest and darkest secret. And though Luke seemed to just be a young man who was happy and eager to be doing something with his life, Holly couldn't imagine his manner towards her being the same if she accidentally let something slip.

A guilty feeing settled in her stomach. It wasn't her fault, but the weight of that knowledge on top of what could happen once he found out was unbearable. Holly knew of those two major plot points—because that's really all they were, when it came down to it—and if she had her way, Luke would never be privy to that bit of information.

Given that she is, well, herself…..Holly will undoubtedly let something slip. She prayed that that day would never come.

"Holly? Hey, Holly, are you okay?"

When Holly felt the hand on her shoulder, the unfocused look in her eyes cleared and her gaze snapped back to him. After that whirlwind of thought, looking at him was harder. "I—sorry. I'm really sorry; I just started zoning…."

His worried eyes softened when he heard that she was just lost in thought. "What happened to get you so distracted? Must've been something important." Holly noticed how pretty Luke's blue eyes actually were; looking into them only increased her guilt and unease. If she wasn't careful enough and let something slip, she didn't want to imagine the unbearable look of mistrust and betrayal that would undoubtedly cloud his beautiful gaze.

Holly couldn't tell him. "Uh, nothing. I'm easily distracted, that's all. Sorry." He didn't seem to buy her hurried response. "You know what? It's late and cold. I'm tired."

She stood up and hugged her jacket closer to her body, keeping her eyes adamantly away from Luke. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Luke."

As she walked quickly to the exit, she heard him shuffle to a stance. "Goodnight," he said as if questioning, confused by the (from his point of view) abrupt change in attitude towards the conversation.

42.

So...some stuff was cleared up. Next chapter should be the conclusion to the Xenon predicament, some more discussion of the Force, and Holly figuring out how to go about doing that. Oh, yeah, and she learns why she can all of the sudden read anything written in that galaxy.

Reviews!

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: It's nice to know you can relate Holly to someone in your life. It's easier to read about a character if you can connect with them on a personal level. But, you must keep in mind that three years transpired between Episodes IV and V, so it won't merely be covered in a chapter. Thank you for reviewing!

Sardhrantor: So sorry again for the delay. It was really busy; I'll try to get chapters out on time next week...thanks for your support!

Gigira: Woah, thank you! Your review flattered me so much. I'm glad you're enjoying it, even if you don't often go for this type of story; I appreciate your kind words. And don't worry about reviewing every chapter or reading it the moment it's uploaded: I thank you for your continued support anyway :)

Himeno Kazehito: I would have fit the rest of the Xenon story in here if it wasn't already Monday...But you will definitely know next chapter! And, yes, everybody deserves a bit of a slap now and then...especially Han!

Thanks for reading; please review, follow, and favorite! I'll see you (hopefully) next week!


	18. Chapter 18

Greetings. I'm updating before the weekend's over! Yay! This chapter is pretty long, and I could've gone longer, but I decided to save that for the next one. And, as a little side note, ESB will _most likely_ start on chapter 20 or 21.

And another thing about the beginning of the next movie: the first few scenes implied that the Rebel Alliance had just moved to Hoth after staying on Yavin for about three years. I thought that such a thing would be ridiculous; the Empire knew where they were, and three years was plenty of time to find them and raid their base. So in this story, I had them move locations earlier, so they were on Hoth for three years instead of Yavin IV. Not too important, but I just thought I should clear that up.

Happy reading!

Chapter 18:

 _"_ _She's not grounded. It's been too long, and nothing's happened. Nothing's changed."_

 _There was a bright, heavy chuckle. The voice rang darkly through the void with unmatched magnitude. "You are right in part. She's slipping through; the universe won't let her stay for very much longer. She is already losing a grip on time."_

 _"_ _In part?" demanded the other voice. "You suggest I speak incorrectly?"_

 _"_ _She_ has _changed. It's not known how long that change will last, or how impactful it will be once she's pulled away. But you speak the truth when you say that she won't last."_

 _"_ _But that's exactly the point! She lives in this….this_ dream _where she pictures everything to be how she wants it too. Reading between the lines….she completely ignores what's been written and makes it into her own reality!"_

 _"_ _To her, are we not fiction? This just isn't her own reality."_

 _"_ _Ah, contradiction! So I_ am _right; she's not come to accept the reality of it. She may think she has, but no, not really. I tell you, it wasn't done right. She's losing grip on both realities."_

 _"_ _We may soon have to reestablish that grip, then."_

 _"_ _Ha! Good luck with that."_

42.

The weeks droned on and on. It felt as though days were passing slowly in retrospect, but when she was actually focusing on the present, they flew by in no time at all. It was as if there _wasn't_ any time to this place; she had certainly nothing to go on, because the dates meant absolutely nothing to her.

Weeks turned to months, and months to years. Years to decades, centuries, eons….

The immeasurable time that was passing both drove her mad and gave her a flare for the dramatic at the same time.

She soon began to lose track of how long she had been here. Holly's IPod was no help; it stayed locked on the same time it had shown when first she checked it back on Tatooine: eleven thirty. She had long since powered the thing off, thrown it back in her bag, and stuffed her bag underneath her bunk.

Useless, stupid, sentimental thing anyway.

Holly was walking sleepily back to her room one night after speaking with Luke. They had attempting (in vain, she may add) to read each other's minds. What had transpired was not telepathy, but frustration; it was frustration that they soon felt both from themselves and from one another.

Holly suggested that they stick to empathy, and Luke agreed.

Still, they couldn't sense each other's emotions when they were specifically trying to do so. It was like hearing without listening; the two conditions that had to be met in order for their empathy to work was the presence of a strong emotion and the person sensing the emotion not really seeking it. When either of them focused, they came up blank.

Hearing without listening was, unfortunately, much easier than listening without hearing. It was kind of backwards and woefully impractical; what use would it be, ever, when you actually needed it? Granted, Holly couldn't think of a time when she would have to know whether Luke was feeling sad, or frustrated, or elated, or confused anytime soon.

Thumbing in the number combination to unlock the door, Holly had been expecting to merely deposit Xenon on her bedside table and then promptly collapse onto the mattress. She was very tired, and wished for nothing other than sleep.

"What's got you out so late?" questioned a voice from the darkness of the room. Holly jumped and gasped; she hadn't thought that either of her roommates would be awake. " _Past curfew?_ " enforced Yvonne.

Holly sighed. "Just walking," she replied, kicking off her shoes and letting Xenon crawl from her arm. Her eyelids were gaining weight, becoming heavier by the moment. Attempting telepathy and empathy was rather trying.

"You 'just walk' for at least an hour nearly every night?" Incredulity lined her voice.

"Yes," insisted Holly. "Helps me clear my mind."

"Were you with anybody?" she pressed. "More specifically, someone you have _yet to set me up with_?" Yvonne leaned towards her and whispered dramatically.

Holly didn't feel comfortable telling her anything. "If I walked with anybody, I wouldn't have a clear mind, would I?" she snapped. "I like being alone."

She ignored her response. "You eat lunch with them every day. You sit right next to _him_. Is there someone you don't want us to know about?" She obviously didn't get the hint.

"If there were something," Holly began slowly, forcefully, "I certainly wouldn't tell you, now would I? But nothing's going on, so please let me get some sleep. It's been a long day and I'm exhausted, please."

Yvonne grumbled, "Killjoy," but retreated back to her own bunk.

Holly settled into a dream-filled sleep.

42.

Holly was back home. Everything was perfect; it was a bright, sunny day outside, but not so much so that it hurt her eyes. She smiled and hugged herself in contentment; she could feel, on her arm, the clear absence of a raised, pale scar. None of that fiasco had happened.

In front of her, on the large wooden dining table, lay a book. The fabric of the hardcover binding was frayed and worn, but it was still intact. Holly recognized the coloring.

Extending her hand was not enough to reach it. She merely turned her palm downward and pointed her fingers towards it, focusing on the action of bringing it towards her. Effortlessly, it flew into her palm.

 _Funny_ , she thought. _Never been able to do that before_.

Holly shrugged and dismissed it. She was home; nothing else mattered.

She knew that the book in her hands was _The Hobbit_. Holly didn't even have to read the title to know what it said; what else could it be? It was the way that she just knew something, beyond a doubt, to be true.

And she knew what the first paragraph would say before she even opened the book. _'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell…'_

She smiled and flipped to the first page. What she noticed first was the yellowing of the pages and the fading of the words. Huh. It hadn't been that old when she read it last, had it? Couldn't have been too long ago.

Again, she dismissed it, and began to read.

 _'_ _In a house in the desert there lived a farm boy. Not a tiny, cramped, cluttered house, known for an abundance of people in too little a space, nor yet a spacious, luxurious, wealthy house with nothing in it to sit on but an overly expensive chair: it was a moisture farm, and that meant simplicity.'_

What? Holly stuck her finger in the book and flipped back to the cover. She had sworn that it said ' _The Hobbit_.' Was she mistaken?

Indeed, she was. The old tome now read, _'The Jedi.'_

This was something that she could not ignore. Holly opened the book again, looking at the first page closely. It was nearly exactly as it should be; font, thickness, margins….everything was what she remembered it to be except for the words. Holly read through the first paragraph once more, which only startled her further.

It now said something different. Holly couldn't even read it, she just knew: where once there was an introduction to a moisture farm, there was now a jumbled explanation of quantum mechanics. Except now, it didn't use familiar terms. Instead, there were thrown in at random words such as 'plasma coils,' 'thermal detonators,' and 'flux capacitors.'

Holly turned the pages frantically, searching for a familiar paragraph, but one was nowhere to be found. At last, she reached the final page. It concluded thus:

 _'_ _We apologize for the inconvenience, but this edition of_ Quantum Mechanics: Science You Know and Love _has been withdrawn. It has been scanned by our certified R2 Unit and has been diagnosed with a case of Bad Motivation._

 _To prevent spread of this disease to other motivators, we urge you to return this copy of_ Quantum Mechanics: Science You Know and Love as quickly as possible _for your protection to the factory, located in: The Dreary Dug: Mos Eisley, Tatooine.'_

Holly stared in shock at the words before her. They began to shift and blur, changing shape and location more quickly than her eyes could follow; when all motion stopped and the letters settled into place.

Trouble was, she couldn't read them anymore. They were unfamiliar to her, not because she physically could not see them but because they were the letters of another language. A vision flashed before her mind's eye; it was the memory of the inn she stayed at while in Mos Eisley.

But she did not recognize it, and that fact scared her.

Holly tossed the book across the table. It wasn't her dining table, though, that she threw it across; in the time that she had been engrossed in her book, the room she had been sitting in morphed into the sitting room of Han Solo's ship.

Who's Han Solo?

Holly yelled in frustration. What was all of this?

She didn't get the chance to answer or be answered before she woke up.

42.

"Just stop it!" yelled Holly as she bolted to a sitting position.

Holly then realized where she was. She clamped a hand over her mouth, fearing she'd woken her still-sleeping roommates.

Yvonne remained as unmoving as a particularly lazy rock and S'Yana merely shifted.

Holly let out a loud sigh. Xenon had climbed into her pillow and was clicking wildly up at her. She flipped onto her stomach and propped her head up on her fists.

"Sorry," she whispered to her droid friend. He continued clicking, but the frequency lowered slightly.

That dream was strange. Holly had dreamt plenty of things since she got here, but none were as outright bizarre as that one had been. Despite her occasional lie-induced _Star Trek_ dreams, her sleeping mind generally depicted realistic but false situations containing people from Earth and her new friends and acquaintances here.

That dream, however….it shed light on something she had forgotten.

Thinking back to the data pads that Leia had given her to study and test on, she wondered why anything written there made any sense. Was that truly written in English? Nothing written on the screens as readings on the _Millennium Falcon_ were in English. They all had those bizarre characters, the ones she had seen at the Dreary Dug.

She needed to talk to Han. Or…or Luke. Or maybe even Leia, if she'd listen to her. Holly needed to see something written in whatever language they spoke here. No matter what it sounded like, the real problem now was how it was conveyed on paper.

But there was nothing Holly could do until morning. After lying in bed for what felt like hours, trying to calm her busy mind, she finally drifted into a shallow doze.

42.

Holly stalked to her post early the next morning. She wanted to get a head start on her studies and whatever jobs she needed to do so she could be released for lunch as quickly as possible. Lunch was where everything happened; it was where she could talk to her friends, discuss things with people who actually cared about what she wanted to say.

Now, though, she didn't seek idle chit-chat.

Her next project had been handed to her the minute she walked into the workroom. Holly grabbed the data pads and glanced at it fleetingly, then made her way to her post.

Holly stopped in her tracks, however, when she realized that she hadn't actually read the data pad—all she had done was give it a fleeting look and assume that it meant for her to start work on the turbine on the table.

Actually taking the time to read it, Holly's eyes widened when she realized that she couldn't understand what was written. A wave of understanding crashed over her when she remembered the shape and style of the odd characters in her dream; they had been exactly like these were.

 _But yesterday, my assignment had been in English_ , she thought to herself, confused. Why had it changed?

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Oh, well. There was a turbine at her station—she must be fixing that. No matter whether or not she could actually read it, she knew what she needed to do today.

Holly got to work.

"Um, O'Reilly," came a voice from behind her. Holly had been trying to rewire the power supply for a malfunctioning turbine, and when she heard the voice, she set her small pliers delicately next to the space-age multi-meter on her workbench. She slowly turned around to see Simmons standing behind her.

The grey-haired woman crossed her arms and said, "That's not how you fix a compressor."

Holly smiled sarcastically. "Oh, really? I didn't know. Hmm….let me look at this a moment…." She turned back to the rotor and dramatically surveyed it. "Wait, this doesn't happen to be a compressor at all! It's a turbine!" she looked at Simmons with a fake laugh. "Silly me! Good thing I made that _mistake_ , then." Silently, Holly hoped that she wasn't actually supposed to work on a compressor. She hadn't exactly read the data pad, after all.

Simmons' nostrils flared. "I'll not take that disrespect from you, O'Reilly."

Holly picked up her pliers once again and turned to the batteries. "Sorry, ma'am; just thought you ought to know."

Her supervisor sent her a glare that she felt rather than saw, but gave her no other direct comment.

"Lunch break, everyone," Simmons called to the room after about an hour. Holly worked in a rather large workshop, filled with every engineer in the west half of the base. There was a communal shuffle as the workers left their stations.

The learning engineer connected one last wire before practically flying from the workshop and racing towards the mess hall.

42.

Holly had resolved to seek help from whomever she ran into first. Whomever she knew, at least; unfortunately, that left a couple of people of undesirable status open for questioning. One such person happened to be the one that she came across first: Princess Leia.

When she caught sight of the woman, Holly glanced around in hopes of seeing Luke or Han….or even Chewie or the droids. But she had rushed to the mess hall, so not many people had yet arrived.

Leia would have to do. Holly nervously approached her. "Um, Princess? Ma'am?" she wasn't quite sure how to initiate a conversation with someone of much greater status but barely greater age. She was basically the leader of this operation, and accidently offending her wouldn't be a good idea—especially since the two of them weren't exactly on terrific terms anyway.

The woman in question sighed, looking up from the data pad that she held in front of her. "Yes?"

"I've got a question," she began hesitantly. Leia merely raised her eyebrows. "I—well, um, could you possibly let me see one of those data pads that I tested on again?"

The Princess tilted her head. "And why would you need that?"

Holly had feared Leia would ask that question. Honestly, she didn't have a good answer; her predicament was something she may feel comfortable telling Luke, but certainly not Leia, which was unfortunate, because Leia probably had what she was looking for.

"I've been thinking about something I read in the engineering section," she lied. "Something about the wordage confused me then, and I just wanted to look over it. Not to re-test or anything, just out of curiosity."

Please buy it. Please buy it. Please b—

"All right," she said. "You're a promising engineer, Holly, I'll give you that, even if you weren't much good for anything else. Wouldn't want you to mess up because of confusion."

Holly's momentary elation was cut out by a sudden spike of confusion. She was a promising engineer? How would Leia know that?

 _You're so thick, Holly_ , she scolded herself. Of course she would know of the progress of _anyone_ she wanted to—she basically ruled this place.

"Thank you, Princess. Er, ma'am." Holly really wished she could clear up how to address her.

"Oh, just call me Leia," the Princess said in exasperation. "We're not on Alderaan, and I'm not your princess. We'll be seeing enough of each other to be on a first-name basis anyway."

"Okay," Holly said. "Wait, what? What do you mean, 'seeing enough of each other?'"

"I hadn't had time to tell you this before—you're being transferred. You will not be supervised by Simmons or Aurseep anymore," she said. Holly grinned. "Instead, you're going to work on fighters."

Holly shook her head a moment. "Leia, that doesn't make sense." Fighters were basically the cars of outer space, weren't they? "I'm an electrical engineer….for now, anyway. Don't fighters need mechanics?"

She smirked at her. "Obviously, you'll need a bit of instructing," Leia remarked. "But, no—yes, I understand that you're an electrical engineer, but any formidable electrical engineer should be able to double as a mechanical engineer, if they really need to. Fighters don't need mechanics; they need mechanical engineers." Holly was about to argue, but Leia went on. "They need electrical engineers, too. Handling the controls in the cockpit, the batteries. You can do that, right?"

"Er—maybe," she said. If Holly couldn't, she'd learn. She just didn't want to be stuck with Simmons any longer.

"Ensure that you do." The woman stood. "I'll get those pads to you before dinner. Have a nice day."

The farewell was curt, but Holly could tell that it was different than when they first met. Was she warming up to her? Maybe now that she showed some aptitude, Leia didn't see her as just a useless tagalong. Maybe.

42.

Holly grabbed a plate with food but she didn't start eating. For one thing, looked completely unnatural—it was some sort of yellow gel. It could have been the regular type of edible gelatin that Holly was used to were it not for the fact that, inside, was a slab of off-color green meat, which had to be blue since the gel was yellow.

Other than the color, its shape, size, and texture resembled chicken to a very small degree.

Holly poked it with her fork once and shoved the plate aside.

"Holly! Holly!" An excited voice approached her.

She looked up to see Luke. "Hi," she greeted. He sat down at her bench, but something was off. The way he was sitting….it was as though he were deliberately trying to keep her from seeing his back. And, come to think of it, his hands, too, because they were firmly clasped out of her view.

"So, what've you got there?" she said, motioning towards his hands.

Holly saw him grin widely out of the corner of her eye. She'd been having trouble looking at him lately, because a couple of times, had almost let slip that their lives were a movie. (On one such occasion, when Han had been describing a place called 'Cloud City' to Holly and Luke, she had uttered, under her breath, that "Your writer's a thief," referring to the obvious parallels to Flash Gordon. After a few similar occurrences, Holly had to focus on what she said so as not to let her secret accidentally slip.)

Keeping secrets was difficult. When she would look at Luke, she'd become engrossed in the conversations she had with him. She'd forget that she wasn't supposed to be saying this or that, and she made references nearly every other statement that he didn't understand. Holly couldn't help it; she just acted absolutely like herself around him, and it always felt….nice.

When Holly accidentally looked into his eyes, she couldn't look away. He was positively glowing with pride when he held out his hands.

Holly tore her gaze away to see what he was presenting to her. In his hands were her glasses—well, they weren't _quite_ the same pair as before, but she could tell what they were supposed to be. The lenses were the same shape; there was a new metal framing around it, mimicking as best it could the old plastic frames, which must have served as a template. They were even painted to be the same color.

"You—you really did it?" she gaped in disbelief.

"I find your lack of faith….disturbing," he joked. "You can never believe me, can you? When I say I'll do something, I'll do it, rest assured."

Holly chuckled. Where had she heard that before? _I find your lack of faith disturbing_ ….it was familiar.

Oh, well. Must be a phrase that she just hadn't heard in a while. "This is….this is great, Luke!" she made to grab them out of his hand, but he pulled them away and held it up to the light, seeming not to notice her reach for them.

Luke peered through the lenses as he held them up. "You must _really_ be blind," he went on. "Oh, and, there were a few scratches on the lenses. I talked to a friend of mine—he used to design the glass in a cockpit. All he had to do was scan the lenses," he looked back to her, "and recreate them. Hope you don't mind."

Holly grinned. "Uh, no, not if they're still the same."

"One way to find out," he remarked. Shifting, she turned to face him, holding out her hand. He completely ignored it and did something that caught her totally off-guard.

Holding them by each temple, Luke brought the glasses closer to her face. Holly flushed crimson when she realized what he was doing—what was he doing? She didn't need him to put her glasses on for her! Yeah, she couldn't see quite as clearly as she normally would have, but that didn't mean she was physically incapable of putting on her own glasses.

 _Maybe he isn't doing it because of that_ , one miniscule part of her said. That only made her blush harder. That thought sent thousands of little butterflies to her midsection, in which they must have been conducting a circus. A Flying Circus. A Flying Circus with cheese shops and Spanish Inquisitions—

Her glasses were resting on her nose already, and although she wanted to look at something far away to test them, Holly couldn't shift her gaze from Luke's. She wanted to hide her face, for she was certain it was the exact color of Scotty's red shirt, but no matter how many times she thought: _Beam me up, Scotty_ , nothing could transport her from that spot.

"Er—thanks," she stumbled. Luke grinned and lowered his hands—it was a slight comfort to see that he was blushing too. It only seemed to cause them both discomfort and awkwardness; why would he initiate that if it would only end badly?

Though, when she thought about it, the Flying Circus wasn't entirely unpleasant. Yes, it was a horrible metaphor, but when you didn't think about what _the_ Flying Circus actually was….it felt like a whirlwind of confusion, of course, but it was exhilarating and brought a certain level of….intoxication.

"Do they work?"

 _Well, I'm not sure. When you stop demanding all of my attention, I'll be sure to get back to you on that._

Holly forced herself to look around the room. She saw the troops at the food line, at their tables, eating and chatting—enjoying that yellow and green slab of….preservative. She saw Leia and Han arguing. Typical. Chewie was playing with Xenon in a nearby booth—also typical.

Everything was in such sharp clarity, a luxury that Holly hadn't tasted in at least two weeks, since she leant Luke both halves of her glasses. "Wow," she said. "It's great—thank you so much." She smiled warmly.

The Flying Circus had tired out a bit. They were back to normal.

Luke got up to retrieve a plate of food, leaving Holly to remember the reason she had rushed here in the first place. The change of topic with Leia and whatever just happened with Luke made her completely forget what had prayed upon her mind for hours.

When Luke returned, Holly considered how to begin the conversation. She'd always struggled with things like that, especially when the subject of their conversation was particularly important. "Hey, Luke, remember the Dreary Dug back on Tatooine?"

Luke nodded as he sat down. "Yeah, why?"

"What language was the sign written in? The sign and the numbers on the door—if they even were numbers. What alphabet was that?"

"Um, that was just regular Basic," he said, as if it were obvious. "The alphabet's called Aurebesh, of course. You speak the language; why don't you know that?" He fixed her with a perplexed look, which Holly quickly mirrored.

"How….? Basic? Is that the language?"

"Yeah. Seriously, how don't you know that?"

Holly glanced down. She'd never seen the characters before. They obviously weren't English. "Er—I speak English," she said.

"No, you're speaking Basic," he laughed, as if she were joking. "Everyone here is. Do they just call it English where you're from?"

"They must. But that doesn't really explain why it's got a different alphabet, though." It made sense that they wouldn't write things the same way, but why would they speak the same words? She'd heard the Jawas and the aliens in the Cantina speaking different languages, but none of them sounded familiar. Why did the humans all speak English? She was grateful, of course, but it was unlikely.

"You mean you're….you're illiterate?"

Illiterate. Holly hated the very thought of not being able to read. "I've asked Princess Leia to let me see some of those data pads that I took tests on," said she, "because I could read that. I'm curious to see what you think of the writing." And, she couldn't read the data pad that morning.

Luke was about to say something, but the radio transmitter that Holly had strapped to her belt buzzed. "O'Reilly, you're requested in engineering room seventeen thirty-four," came Leia's slightly muffled voice. "You're late for your briefing."

Holly jumped up. She was late; her lunch hour was supposed to end at least ten minutes ago. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you! Sorry, Luke, I got transferred. I need to go to—"

"Seventeen thirty-four, yeah," he finished, standing up himself. "That's where my X-Wing is, where I work. I'll take you."

Really? "All right," she agreed, picking up her tray and dropping it in the disposal. "Let's go."

42.

"Finally, you've decided to grace us with your presence," Leia remarked when Holly and Luke entered the engineering room. Really, it was more of its own hall, because it was simply gargantuan, but call it what they may, it was impressive.

"I apologize," Holly said, offering no excuse. She didn't have one, after all; she just forgot the time. Good luck she was with Luke, too, because she wouldn't have known how to get there.

Leia narrowed her eyes. She must've been expecting some sort of explanation. "No matter," she dismissed. "I've been monitoring your progress, Holly, over the past year. And you've—"

" _What?_ " she interrupted. Leia's face adopted an irritated expression. "What do you mean, 'past year?'"

"We've been on Hoth for a year," Luke said from beside her. Holly turned to him, disbelief covering her face.

"No! That's…." Holly trailed off, thinking back. In truth, she had no idea exactly _how_ long they'd been there. It felt like a while, certainly, but at most, a few weeks. How could it be a year? Time shouldn't have passed like that. _It would've been perfect to be a Time Lord right about now,_ she thought. _Or to at least be able to read a calendar._ "What about Xenon, and that box we found? Surely they haven't been studying it for a year."

"Nearly six months," affirmed the princess. "About your droid, we'll get to that in a moment. First, though, you need to listen about what you'll be doing." Holly had nothing to say, so Leia went on.

"Over to the end, there," she pointed to the far end of the room, which was walled off—though upon closer inspection, Holly saw that it was a huge door that would slide up, like a garage. "That's where we'd bring in X and Y-Wings for maintenance and repairs. You'll be given things to study, vids to watch. Be sure to do your homework, because this is a _very_ important job, and if you do it incorrectly, people may pay for your mistake with their lives." She gave her a significant look.

Holly nodded, listening closely as the princess explained in greater detail what she'd be doing. She would have a new supervisor, under whom she would study until she was deemed competent enough to be trusted with actual repairs. There were inspections and routines that they enforced, to keep everyone in line—it was something in which both the pilots and engineers partook.

As Leia went on, it struck Holly how lenient this military was. Over the past few weeks—ahem, _six months,_ apparently, Holly had noticed how remarkably un-military the Rebel Alliance. They weren't as strict as she knew militaries to be, and there was a much greater camaraderie between both soldiers of the same and different ranking. It was more like friends banding together for a greater cause, rather than a group of citizens pulled by a government to fight for a country.

Holly sort of liked it, but she still didn't feel entirely comfortable.

"You'll have to cooperate with droids, as well," Leia went on. "I trust you'll have no issue with that?"

"Eh, I'm not so sure," Holly mused in a sarcastic banter. "I mean, I especially hate that little droid who constantly follows me around; I'm not sure how I'll get along with _even more_ of them."

Leia allowed herself a smile, which especially surprised Holly, but seemed to take no notice. "That's about it, for now. You'll report every day from this point forward to this station to Captain Russel." Holly nodded her understanding.

"But what about Xenon and that device that Holly and Han found?" Luke asked. Oops, Holly had forgotten he was there. Almost. She had also legitimately forgotten about that weird Borg Cube.

Leia nodded. "Yes. Well, I'm not exactly an expert on that, and those engineers that you brought it to earlier definitely weren't. We've given it to someone who gave us some answers. He's over here; come get the report."

The princess stalked away. Holly sent Luke a grin, which he returned, and the two of them followed Leia over to a large table, at which she and an older man with thinning grey hair and a small moustache were already engaging in conversation.

"So, Kip, here's the girl who brought it in from the _Falcon_ ," Leia introduced. 'Kip' smiled kindly at her and shook her hand firmly.

He got right down to business. "Hello. Now, this is quite an interesting specimen," he began, presenting the Borg Cube. It was lit up now, flooding bright blue light that was remarkably not Borg-ish. "I've not seen anything like it in years, not since the Clone Wars."

Luke breathed quietly, "What _didn't_ happen in the Clone Wars?" but nobody took notice, because he obviously didn't expect to be heard.

"It sort of goes hand-in-hand with the little droid," he continued. "Something about Lock Picks that a lot of specialists still leave out is that they always came with a tracking device." Seeing her uncomprehending look, he smiled and elaborated. "It's something that they—the designers—built to aid the owners. You see, Lock Picks were often sent away from those who owned them, into circuits to crack systems and break locks while their masters went elsewhere. And it's hard to keep track of something this small going through walls, practically."

"So this huge box helps you find them once they're lost?" Holly clarified.

"Partially," he said. "The bulk of it is just a protective cover—it transmits a signal and receives signals in return. But signals are going everywhere all the time—if it senses any signal, it'll track it. Trying to single out one signal takes a lot of power from its battery, as does just processing any signal, so this was put on it to block out transmissions. The real thing is inside, dormant."

"And when you turn it on," Luke began. "The droid comes to you."

"Precisely," the man smiled. He turned to Holly. "I trust you do not have him on your person?"

"No," Holly answered. "Are you going to test it now?"

"That's the plan," the old man gave a boyish grin. He turned to the machine and muttered to himself, "Let's see here….been a while since I've worked with anything like this, too long…." His bony hands clasped around a crevice in on the surface and something clicked. The case fell away in two halves, revealing it to be nearly three inches thick. The box inside was suspended on stilts, being much smaller—almost able to fit into one's pocket.

Holly leaned forward in interest. It was black, glowing a matrix of blue light. A small circle on the top began flashing silently. "If you're sneaking around, there's a switch back here," the man indicated, "that turns off the light, but it's still working, calling your droid." The lights switched off.

The four of them waited anxiously for something to happen. Surprisingly, the sound of a growl reached their ears. "Chewbacca?" Holly questioned, spinning around.

The Wookie was barreling towards them, growling. Holly noticed that he wasn't just running, he was chasing something. Her eyes found Xenon racing towards the homing beacon just like it had on the _Falcon_.

"Chewie, Chewie, it's okay!" Holly approached the angered Wookie. He gave her a glance, suspicious of his droid friend's behavior. "Xenon's fine. That's just a homing beacon. Calls him to it if he's lost," she explained.

"I'll turn it off," Kip said. "Then your droid will be back to normal." He pressed a combination of places on the top, which caused it to flash once more before the casing closed around it.

The change in Xenon was immediate; he began walking around, as if he were a dog sniffing something, completely ignoring the box. Holly held out her palm, which he climbed on to, and offered him to Chewbacca. "See? Perfectly fine."

Chewie growled happily and begun playing with the droid.

"The case was on when we found it," Holly remembered. "Why did it activate just then, on the ship, at the most conveniently inconvenient time?"

Luke chucked. Kip scratched his chin. "Well, when they're put down into the system as 'lost,' the beacon can be activated when it's seen nearby."

"What system?"

"The system it was made in, or that it was plugged in to. When the Empire was founded, all of these machines were cataloged in its tracking systems. All three of them, that is, because what you've got there is an endangered droid, each with its beacon. Is there any time when someone from the Empire could have seen your droid?"

"Mos Eisley," Luke answered for Holly. She nodded.

"But doesn't that mean that the Empire can track us now? It activated the beacon; surely they have a way to track it," Leia pointed out.

"True," Kip agreed. "But I have taken the liberty of disabling that….certain aspect of it. There wasn't enough time for the Empire to get a clear view of where we are." Leia visibly relaxed. "But bypassing that function also disabled its ability to function on its own. It's wired to our own tracker for the ships now, just so it could call your droid."

"So does that mean it's useless when it's not at the base?" Holly wondered.

"Well, not really." Kip snapped his fingers. That called a small droid, similar in shape to R2 but about half the size to roll towards them. "Take this unit here," he pointed. "It can be wired to a beacon such as this in case of malfunction. The makers of your droid were complete geniuses; they nearly thought of everything. You'd wire the beacon up to this unit, which usually stays near its master anyway, not crawling about through circuits—it becomes the homing beacon. Transmitting and analyzing signals like the original never could." Kip nodded. "I believe it was supposed to be the next upgrade, just turning the homing beacon into a new droid, but the company never got the chance before the Empire."

"Would that work on an R2 unit?" Luke asked him.

Holly turned to him in surprise. "You want to hook that up to R2?"

"Think of how advantageous it would be," Luke argued. "Xenon can get to things that R2 can't. And, yes, it's not happening yet, but eventually, I'm going to have to go on an away mission; it would be quite useful to have something like a Lock Pick droid along."

Holly scoffed. "So you want to take my droid away on dangerous missions?"

"He'd be safe," Luke urged.

"It could work," Kip agreed. "An R2 unit would be able to basically talk to a droid such as that, with complete control. Nobody could hack into the transmission and send false signals." He turned to Holly. "Your droid wouldn't be in much danger anyway; he's very good at hiding. Hardly anything could deactivate it if it doesn't want to."

Holly considered for a moment. Xenon could help Luke out of sticky situations. If she didn't let him go, would Luke be put into even greater danger? Could he die because Holly wanted to keep her droid at base?

"Okay," she conceded. "It _could_ help, I suppose." And Luke grinned.

Leia dismissed herself with the excuse of overseeing a supplying cargo ship. "But, before I go, Holly," she said, rummaging through her bag and producing three data pads, "here are the things that you asked for. Hope this clears things up."

"Thank you," Holly said, and the princess retreated promptly. Holly didn't look at them yet; she just tucked them under her arm.

She expected Kip to say something more, but he had retreated to the other side of the table, tinkering with one of the small pieces of equipment on the other end. Xenon had gone away with Chewie, so she began looking around for where this 'Captain Russell' could be.

"So, um, are you going to look at those now?" questioned Luke.

"No," she replied. "I'm going to have to report to, um, Captain Russell in a moment—he's my new boss, I guess you could say."

Luke nodded. "Do….do you want to look over them at dinner?" Why did he sound nervous?

"Well, yeah, that was the plan."

"Um, with me? I mean, I could help you with the data pads….if you'd like." He began fidgeting with his hands.

"Sure," she said. Was he anxious? Maybe he was worried about being late for his post. It couldn't have been too far away, though, if he worked in the same workhouse.

"I'll walk with you to the mess," he said. "After work. Okay?"

Holly narrowed her eyes slightly. "Okay," she agreed, a little skeptical. "See you then." She turned back to Kip as Luke hurried nervously away.

The old man was laughing a bit. Holly chose to ignore this; he was old. Old people were prone to doing old people things, like laughing at something she wouldn't find amusing.

"I probably should introduce myself," he declared, approaching her again. "I've been informed by Princess Leia that you're Holly O'Reilly." She nodded. "I am Captain Kip Russell. I'll be your overseer, of sorts, for a while as you work here."

"You're Captain Russell?" Holly asked. "Good to meet you, Captain."

"Likewise," he said. "Now, I'm going to give you a brief tour, since you're new. But starting tomorrow, you'll have a project. I'll want you to bring those two droids, yours and Skywalker's. We'll see how good you really are when you try and wire the beacon into the R2 unit before I have you working on fighters."

Holly grinned; that was going to be fun. She liked this teacher much more than she would ever like Simmons and Aurseep.

42.

Another chapter's done! Almost to Episode V...

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: It's not delayed this time! Yay me! Anyway, I've got something big planned for the beginning of ESB that I really don't want to rush, but it's almost there. And you'll see what happens with Holly and the Force during that movie. Thanks for reviewing!

river banking: That's quite flattering, comparing Holly to a fungus. At least, in that context it is. Sort of. I did realize that she was sort of irritating, but I didn't want her to be _too_ accepting of what happened. Thank you for your input, and I'm glad your opinion of her changed :)

Sardhrantor: Um. Wow. Yep, sorry for the silence. I'm not going to stop this story in the foreseeable future; you needn't worry. Hope you like this chapter too!

And: I don't own the name Kip Russell. Clifford 'Kip' Russell was the protagonist in Robert A. Heinlein's _Have Spacesuit, Will Travel_. I claim no rights.

Read, review, follow, favorite, all that! I'll (hopefully) see you next week!


	19. Chapter 19

Sorry for being a bit late. I had a pretty stressful Friday and Saturday, so I didn't get any writing done. Also, this chapter is cut a little short, because I felt as though it would be better to give you what I had written while it was at an okay stopping place. The next chapter, being the last until ESB, will be longer-then the real fun begins!

Enjoy

Chapter 19:

Holly and Luke walked together to the mess hall. The former held the data pads that Leia had given her in a tight grasp, adamantly not looking at their unlit screens. Xenon waved from one side of the hall to another as he followed behind them, providing a calming background noise as his feet hit the icy floors.

She was aware that Luke shot glances towards her out of the corner of his eye. When he did so, his lips would purse, as though he were contemplating asking a question. Holly had been in that uncertain state many times before, wishing to strike up a certain subject, hesitant because she either did not know how to or because she was unsure of the response. She understood how difficult such a simple task could be, so she pretended to pay it no mind.

Holly had been adamantly not paying attention to quite a few things lately, actually. For one thing, she avoided all surfaces that she knew had writing on them; something about it spoiled the surprise, she supposed. Though that made it sound too positive….

The previous night, Holly had wanted nothing more than to read something. She yearned to see what it was about the data pads that were different than the others—why had she read them, but not the others? It was some great mystery, and in truth, Holly didn't want to know the answer. It was cowardly, yes, but she had been perfectly happy to exist as she had, say, yesterday, or last week.

Though was it really only a week ago, or a day ago, that things were all right? A week ago, she had been working on old rotors. But had it really been only a week? If at most a month had turned into over a year, what was there to say that she had any credible perception of time at all?

They arrived in the mess hall. It was crowded and loud; everyone flocked there for dinner. Some skipped lunch, but many would consider you seriously ill if you didn't come at eighteen hundred hours to the mess, even if you didn't eat anything; it was a break from work, a time to bond with fellow rebels. Nobody missed that opportunity.

"You're not eating?" Luke questioned when Holly did not grab a tray.

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry. Ate a big lunch." Honestly, she was too anxious to eat. Though, she'd take any opportunity to avoid what she may see. Reluctance worked in weird ways.

"You didn't eat lunch," he argued. "I was there; you were afraid of it or something." He grabbed another tray and proffered it too her.

"I was not!" she declared. "That thing was…." She was about to say, _not of this Earth_ , but that could be applicable to anything here that she did not bring with her. "It was not of this universe. It wasn't edible."

Luke lead the way to a table away from the largest group of people, placing the trays down and sliding hers over. "You can eat this, come on. It's nice and bland, and this time, _not_ from Corellia."

Holly surveyed the chunk of meat and purple vegetables. "Of _course_ it was from Corellia…." She grumbled, poking at the new meal with her fork. She really wasn't hungry, but Luke wouldn't buy that excuse without a distraction.

"So, no point in postponing it any further, huh?" Holly laughed, though it wasn't genuine, while she held up the data pads.

"What are you afraid of?" Luke questioned, catching on to her lack of enthusiasm.

"Afraid?" she mused. "I'm not afraid. Not really…."

"You're certainly not eager."

"Well….I suppose I am a bit, er, _hesitant._ In case, you know, I can't read anything." She'd had nightmares for years about suddenly lacking the ability to read. It was something that Holly didn't want to come true.

Luke sent her a pitying glance. "Okay, tell you what. We'll each take one pad and turn it on. As soon as we see it, we'll say what language it's written in."

Holly gulped and nodded. She reached for one, but before she could grab a pad and pull away, Luke caught her hand and gave it a light, quick squeeze. It was meant to comfort, she knew, and it partially worked. Holly offered a small smile.

Thumb on the power button, the two of them counted down. "Three, two one." The light flickered on, the symbol for the Rebel Alliance shining up to them. Holly held a hand over the screen.

When she was little, she used to play games on the PlayStation. If she had a really old game that often malfunctioned, she would put it in, then close her eyes. She didn't want to see the blue screen that would pop up instead of the loading screen if it didn't work. Instead, Holly would listen for the sound that the loading screen made.

She adopted the useless, immature tactic now, and that would only tell Luke that she was, indeed, afraid. However, it was something Holly couldn't help. Sending the shortest glance that she could to the screen, she saw that characters now appeared.

They spoke simultaneously. "Mine," Luke said, just as Holly deadpanned, "Yours."

He raised his eyebrows, watching her eyes, which were glued to the screen in front of her. "I can't read this," she said, her voice flat. "It's not English. I don't know what it's saying."

Luke stepped over to her side of the table. "Well, it's always been written like that," he said, but quieted when he saw the way she was staring. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, as if she could simply will the words to be legible.

Holly's mind was blank. She stared at the words, if they were that; they could be music notes for all she knew. A fleeting thought made her wonder what their music did look like, if they had such a thing.

"You could read it before," Luke began. He knew, from back on Tatooine, what all his friends had said about girls; they got emotional about the strangest things, and you always had to watch what you said to them if you don't want them to shout your head off. Holly didn't seem the sort of girl to do that, but he was cautious anyway.

"I'm sure I could," she said. "And before you ask, no, I don't know why." She huffed in frustration. Every time she tried to think of a reason, her mind failed on her. Usually, the problems she had weren't that hard. Her hopes sunk with each second.

"Wait," Luke interrupted the silence. "You know, about the emotions…." He trailed off, searching for the right words. Thoughts were so difficult to articulate sometimes.

Holly had no idea what he was on about. "Emotions, yes. Vulcans haven't got any."

"No, no, that's not what I—wait, what? Vulcan?—you know what, never mind. I mean…." Holly glanced to him expectantly. "Do you remember what we figured out about….hmm….you called it empathy, I believe. Do you remember what we found out?"

Holly eyed him quizzically. "Well, that depends. We found out quite a few things."

He sighed. She could be so difficult sometimes….but it wasn't so bothersome as it could have been, when he thought about it. "You described it as 'people hearing without listening.' When you're homesick, I can feel it. You may not show it, but I know that you're thinking about your planet. But when you look sad or unhappy, and I try to see what you're unhappy about, I can't."

"We can only sense it when we….stumble upon it by accident," she understood what he was speaking of. But what had that to do with reading?

"When Leia tested you, you didn't think about not being able to read, did you? That only dawned upon you when you had the dream, right?" She nodded. "So, I was thinking….what if the words are the same way? You see them as your English when you're not thinking about it. But you had the dream, so you had it in your mind that you weren't able to read."

"And because I thought about it, I ended up not being able to read," she finished. "It's like that quantum mechanics experiment—when you look at the electrons, they behaved differently than when they were unobserved—sort of."

"I suppose it's the same principal….you can look over something a thousand times and not notice it. You register in the back of your mind that it's there. But when you're actually looking for it, it's like it disappears."

She laughed humorlessly, knowing the feeling well, but not liking its relevance to the situation. Holly couldn't fathom her mind simply having that much control over what happened. It was something straight out of science fiction….fiction that she assumed _wasn't_ Star Wars, because if those movies had theories this interesting, she'd be all over it.

 _Interesting when it wasn't about her._

"But it has to be something to do with the Force, right?" Holly continued, leaning forward on her elbows. Talking about the Force wasn't something they usually did when others could hear, so she lowered her voice. "I mean, I can't possibly be doing all of this on my own."

Luke rested his chin in his hands and gazed at her contemplatively. Holly felt it again; the Flying Circus performed wildly. Luke had very pretty eyes. She had always thought the blue was a nice tone….

 _Doesn't matter_ , she drilled into herself. _Focus on the important stuff_.

"Ben never said anything about the Force altering sight," he mused. "Maybe it's—"

"I'm just telling you, _Your Worship_ , I'm not a dog that you can order around!"

A loud voice interrupted Luke's statement, causing both of their heads to whip around. Han strode speedily towards them, closely followed by Princess Leia, a stern and agitated look on her face.

"Han, you can't expect to just sit here like—like we're an inn! You're the best pilot we've seen in a _long_ time, and if you're going to stay, you have to actually _do_ something! Use your skills to go on missions, to—Don't you _dare_ walk away from me like that!"

Han had attempted to take refuge behind Luke and Holly, as if using them for cover. The latter sent him a questioning glance, and all she got in return was an irritated scowl.

"I _am_ doing things! Just because I don't want to go flying about in the Outer Rim Territories with a huge price on my head doesn't mean I'm not helping out!"

The two of them were at it again. Holly and Luke shared a look of understanding; their friends weren't going to stop their banter for a while.

The two of them had perfected the art of ignoring the princess and the pilot's ongoing war, just as Han and Leia had perfected the art of waging it. Their arguments had been amusing at first, but after a while, Holly grew weary of listening to their incessant complaints about one another.

 _They really need to start dating already_.

Han had admitted himself that he liked the Princess. When he told Holly, she hadn't been surprised; it was practically glaring everyone in the face. The only person who didn't know seemed to be Leia herself—and, knowing her, Holly would assume that the woman did, in fact, know, and just chose to ignore it.

Holly ate silently as the war played out around them. At one point, Han attempted to bring Holly into it.

"She doesn't do anything! Just sits here and goes through….through school again!" he exclaimed.

Holly fixed him with a glare as Leia, surprisingly, came to her defense. "O'Reilly actually _works_ in engineering; she doesn't just sit there and boast of how much _better_ than anyone else at her job she is." Her words were laced heavily with venom.

Holly sighed and continued eating. She pitied Han sometimes, because Leia did have a way with words; she bet that was what they taught in whatever aristocratic classes she had to take as a princess. Holly knew, however, that Han brought this upon himself; if he had just left the Princess alone, he wouldn't be subject to her channeled fury.

Well, she couldn't put _too_ much blame on him. If Holly liked someone the way Han apparently liked Leia, she certainly wouldn't have any idea how to act.

She liked to imagine that she wouldn't act like him, though.

Leia spat an insult to the smuggler, spinning on her heel and storming from the room. Han looked as though he were going to shout something after her, but Holly put a hand on his arm.

"Give it a rest, Han. We're tired of your voices for now."

He turned to her, affronted. "Oh, yeah? And what about _her_?" he motioned to the place where Leia had been standing. "She was shouting too!"

Holly sighed and shook her head. Han was hopeless.

"Voic _es,_ Han. She meant both of you," an exasperated Luke responded.

Han looked from one to the other in defeat. Holly, sensing his rather obvious distress, leaned towards him and whispered in his ear: "I'm not exactly an expert in this sort of thing, but I'm pretty sure that if you want to be successful in wooing a girl, this isn't how you'd do it."

A brief look of 'how dare you mention that?' crossed his face, but it was overcome by stubborn defiance. "Well, how would _you_ do it?" he questioned rhetorically, crossing his arms and huffing.

Holly smirked and shared a glance with Luke, who seemed to get the gist of the exchange. "Han, I _wouldn't_ woo a girl, that's the thing."

The smuggler fixed her with a glare that she knew wasn't really as sharp as he made it seem. "Holly…." He began, searching for a comeback. "just hush."

He stormed off, probably to go rant to Chewie. Holly allowed herself a short laugh, shaking her head and turning back to her food.

"So you think that Han and Leia will be….a thing?" Luke voiced from across the table.

Holly tapped her chin. She couldn't remember if anyone in Star Wars got married, because though Clare had raved on and on about how fanciful Han was to her, she hadn't mentioned any love interest. If there was one, she probably would've ignored it, too.

"I actually have no idea," she said. Han _liked_ Leia, yeah, and maybe Leia liked Han back, but that doesn't mean anything between them would work.

Either way, Holly couldn't picture Luke being happy with anything she said; Leia was his sister, and brothers were protective of their sisters, usually.

Dinner ended and Holly walked with Luke until the paths to their quarters diverged. "I'm not up to meeting tonight," Holly said, rubbing her temple. She had developed a headache. "Didn't sleep much last night."

Luke nodded, but he seemed a bit disappointed. "That's okay. I suppose we should both get some sleep and mull over that reading issue tomorrow."

Holly nodded and retreated to her room.

42.

Holly waited eagerly for anything to come of their predicament. She waited for an idea to come to her, to Luke, or to a stranger passing her in the corridor; it no longer mattered from whom help came, but she just wanted an end to this mess, which did not seem to be arriving soon.

A great length of time passed as she waited for some Deus Ex Machina to alieve her from her struggle in some timely manner, but nobody seemed to care for forwarding this plot.

It was surprising how little her illiteracy hindered her work. Most of what she did was technical, anyway; the only times she even saw a data pad was when she was given a new unfamiliar project with instructions. Then, Captain Russel seemed to pointedly ignore it when Holly slipped away to ask Luke what the words said.

She was trying to learn the characters, but it was even more difficult than learning Latin; she never seemed to be able to focus on anything like that. Reading suddenly became such a strenuous task that she could hardly focus on looking at the letters, much less actually consider what they're saying.

Holly wasn't even sure how long she had been focusing on this problem. More than a few days, obviously. It can't have been too short a time, for she had long since finished the installation of the homing beacon into R2's interface; likewise, it couldn't have been _that_ long, because her hair hadn't gotten _too_ long. Yes, it was now down to her shoulder blades, but Holly convinced herself that this was not an issue because her hair grew quickly.

However, when she wasn't trying to fool herself, Holly admitted that she was at the Rebel Base longer than she would have liked.

42.

Han sauntered into the room pompously. Though, Holly supposed that went without saying. His eyes scanned the area quickly before they fell upon herself and Leia.

"Holly, what're you doing here?" he asked in confusion.

They stood in the makeshift command center of the Rebel Base. On only two previous occasions had Holly been allowed in this room; both of which were like this one.

"I'm giving Princess Leia the report for the engineering sector," she responded. Though Leia had requested not to be addressed thus, she felt it inappropriate to call her anything less when they were on duty, especially in the command center.

"Huh," Han responded, as if he hadn't known she that high a position. Not just anyone could give reports to the commanders; it was only those who knew what was happening. "Well, I suppose it'd save the trouble of me telling you later."

"What did you want, Han?" Leia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. He obviously wasn't there to exchange pleasantries.

"That mission to Erovin? Rogue Squadron's volunteered for it," he gave them a significant look. Was that supposed to be important? Holly had heard of the different squadrons before, but she didn't memorize them.

Leia narrowed her eyes. "Has the squadron volunteered, or has their _leader_ done so?"

Han shuffled his feat, as if it were somehow his fault. "The Leader volunteered, but his squadron agreed."

Holly spoke up. "Excuse me, but what's so important about the Rogue Leader?"

Leia gave her an incredulous look. "It's Luke's squadron," she said, as if Holly should know that.

Holly didn't even know that Luke had a squadron. "I don't hang around many pilots," she excused, though to be honest, it was probably still something she should have known. "Why don't you seem to excited about this?"

Leia sighed. "Luke's a commander, and he shows skill, but he's still new," she said. "Relatively."

"I'm sure Luke can handle it," dismissed Han.

"I even told him that he shouldn't do a mission like this so soon!" Leia went on, seeming to ignore Han's remark. "I can't technically keep him from doing it, of course, unless I order another squadron to take its place…."

"But no other squadron shows as much promise as Rogue," commented the smuggler again. Leia didn't look happy to be out-reasoned by Han, so she chose to remain silent.

"Will he be okay, though?" Holly questioned. "I mean, he won't….you know, die, or anything, will he? If he goes on this mission." She began to fiddle with her sleeve when Han didn't respond immediately. Instead, he was just staring at her incredulously.

"It's not... _too_ dangerous, is it?"

Then he burst out laughing. "Heh, Holly, of course it's dangerous," he exclaimed. "But he won't get caught by the Imperials, confront _the most feared person in the entire galaxy_ , and nearly get his arm chopped off! Not _everyone_ is as danger-prone as you."

Holly scowled. Here she was, genuinely worried for her friend's safety; Han either didn't see how she honestly didn't know the risk Luke could be taking, or he knew perfectly well what bothered her and was just so sadistic as to taunt her about it.

"Oh, give it a rest, will you?" Leia sighed. Then she turned to Holly, an apologetic look on her face. "Luke's completely competent, Holly. I'm only worried because he doesn't have as much field experience as some other commanders do."

Holly nodded, not really happy with her answer, but accepting that it was the best she'd get. "Well," Han declared, "I've gotta go finish some shipments." He leaned over to Holly, whispering in her ear, " _Luke's not from an entirely different galaxy, so I'm sure he'll be alright_."

42.

The distant sun rose the next morning, leaving Holly with a feeling of unease in her stomach. Luke was supposed to leave today. He wouldn't be able to bid her farewell, as if he would want to anyway; judging by the fact that Yvonne was already up (she was usually a very late sleeper), Holly bet that Luke would have already been gone.

Neither Leia's nor Han's words had been any consolation to her. Luke had gone on scouting missions, of course, but those weren't actual _missions_. She'd heard stories of troops who'd died on real missions, ones that involved Imperial Soldiers invading Rebel Space or attacking a distant planet controlled by rebel sympathizers.

It didn't help that Leia had spoken to her as though she were seven years of age, rather than seventeen.

Hold on a moment….A year had passed since they got to the Rebel Base. More than a year, probably much more, in fact. So….how old _was_ she?

"Hey, S'Yana," Holly called as the aforementioned woman was just about to head into the shower, "How long have we been on Hoth?"

"Nearly three years, of course, silly," she responded, stepping into the bathroom.

Holly gulped. Oh, how time flies when you're stuck in a science fiction dream.

But that meant that Holly, who had only just turned seventeen before she got here, was late into her nineteenth year of life.

Her eyes grew wide when the full realization came to her. She'd spent nearly three years trying to come to grips with reality, over a course of time that merely felt like three months, at most. She'd let three years pass her by—she didn't do anything with her life.

 _Oh, god, I'm nineteen and I've not finished eleventh grade_ , Holly thought in panic. Clare was….Clare has graduated by now. She'd never had great aspirations, so she was probably working in….in some Star Wars shop. Or a fast food joint. But she'd had the opportunity to do that. Holly, who had mapped out her entire life—graduating high school in the top ten percent of her class. Getting a scholarship to college, taking summer classes so she can get her degree early. Becoming a physicist and an astronaut—getting into the space program.

 _Well, I'm an engineer, which is a branch of physics, technically. And I've already been in space. Twice._

But it wasn't the same. Those things didn't matter as much to her. It wasn't like going to the moon, something she'd looked at for years from the ground. This space held only a fraction of the majesty that anything in her solar system could, because she hadn't spent her entire life longing for the time when she could be specifically _here_.

Yes, she told Luke that she'd be happy here, living the science fiction life. But she actually expected to live, not just exist in a continued dream. Everybody else here lived their lives—three years didn't feel like three months to them!

And speaking of Luke, his absence made the whole thing infinitely worse. He was the friend to whom she felt comfortable telling nearly everything-she'd gone to him when she was worried or excited, or any variation thereupon, partly because she couldn't hide her emotions from him most of the time, but more importantly because it just felt nice to talk to him. He'd listen to her, and she'd listen to him in turn. But, now, when she really needed someone to talk to, he wasn't there.

If he got hurt on that mission of his, she'd personally kill him for causing her so much trouble. Whenever he did return...at least it wouldn't feel like forever. _It'd probably be over in what feels like a day_ , she thought in spite.

If it kept up like this, and it certainly seemed to be doing so, her life would seem to go by in the blink of an eye. From her perspective….she'd live about five more years.

She remembered someone saying that 'Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty.' Holly couldn't even focus on who said it….she rubbed her burning eyes furiously, not realizing until now that she'd been crying.

Holly wasn't going to the hangar today. She couldn't. She'd call in sick, stay in bed, and forget that she thought any of this. Maybe she'd sing a song. Yes, that sounded nice. Sing a happy song. Something long, the words of which she could barely remember. It would make her think, make her focus on something.

It would ensure that she didn't let this day slip by in the time of a second.

The longest song she knew was Don McLean's _American Pie_.

As she curled in on herself on her bed, Holly remembered with disappointment that it was a depressing song.

 _Just focus on the words_.

42.

So, please tell me what you thought. The end was a bit depressing, but it'll get happier in the next one.

Thank you to all who have shared their thoughts with me:

SCE2AUX: Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! Yeah, the timing and everything is all linked in some weird bizarre way that I really hope I'll be able to explain...but, hope you liked this chapter too!

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: Yep! Xenon's finally solved. I really enjoyed working with his character. And Holly's finally started to work. I hope your own story comes along well-I wish you luck. Thanks for reviewing!

Sardhrantor: You were...er, good at guessing, I suppose. But it's not completely solved-I unfortunately tend to stretch some things out. But you'll see why it's impossible to know what happened too soon when the time comes.. It is something 'crazy like that', trust me. I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for reviewing.

alive by grace: Yeah, that could be what happened, and it would make sense, but I don't know how much resources they'd have to set up so many different bases. Anyway, it's not _too_ important. Glad you like the development between characters-and Xenon. Thank you for your input!

Guest: That's cool, the similarities between our stories. And I'm very flattered that you'd recommend my story to someone else-seriously. That's more than I'd ever expected anyone to like the story...I'll try to keep it this good throughout! Thanks for reviewing.

river banking: I felt the same way when I first got into fanfics. And I'm glad you're not bothered by how long I'm taking to get 'round to the romantic part-I'm probably most afraid of it going too fast, that's why it's so slow to start. I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

EGGS: Nice to see your name again! I haven't written any farther into the story than what I update, but I've got loads of plans in my head, and your questions allude to something that is _highly_ probable...Vader's not just going to ignore a pest like Holly :) And last-lastly (I love that, by the way) I am most definitely a Potterhead. I _adore_ the books.

Hope you all liked the chapter! I'll try to have the next one up next weekend. Until then, may the Force be with you!


	20. Chapter 20

Hello! Again, I'm SO sorry for the long wait. Also, read the A/N at the end for a bit of information about an even longer wait before the next update...Sorry.

Chapter 20:

Blistered fingers gripped a pair of metal pliers tightly but carefully—Holly had forgotten her gloves in the maintenance hangar, and it seemed that plastic handles built into metal tools were a luxury only found on Earth. Maybe they were found somewhere else too, but obviously not on a low-budget Rebel Base.

She crouched low in the cockpit of a malfunctioning X-Wing. It would have been helpful to take the ship down to the maintenance hangar, but that was also impossible: If anyone tried to fly this fighter, they'd find themselves soaring high over the endless slopes of snow and ice that was the entire planet of Hoth. Soaring northeast, specifically, for that was the only direction in which the ship could go.

Holly had only been sent to find out why it wouldn't steer, but there turned out to be many, _many_ more problems than that. It was because of this that Holly had been here for nearly three hours, trying to get the thing to work correctly.

The sound of another ship landing reached her ears. Holly dismissed it; no less than five times today, she'd heard those sounds. No doubt it was a routine scouting mission returning from a day's flight over the perimeter, scanning for any threat and surveying a little bit farther out from their rebel territory.

Humming a peaceful, happy tune from _Lord of the Rings_ brought a soft, nostalgic smile onto her face. It was perhaps the thing that she missed most about leaving—aside from school, of course. She missed playing her favorite songs on her piano (electric, of course, because a real one would be too difficult to bring up to her room).

"Holly, ma'am," an electronical voice spoke to her from outside the cockpit. Holly leaned over the side to see 3PO standing on the ground, looking up at her. She ceased her humming immediately; _Concerning Hobbits_ could wait. "R2-D2 has returned!"

Holly's face broke into a wide smile as she saw the little blue and white droid roll over to his counterpart. R2 was back—that could only mean one thing. R2 had gone away with Luke on his mission. If the droid was here, his master was, too!

"See, R2? I simply cannot express how elated we both are that we can continue our Binary Lessons! I _told_ you she would be so pleased that you have come back."

Shoving her tools back into her bag and hastily setting the breadboard on which she had been testing wires onto the seat, Holly leapt out of the ship and onto the ground, a grin still plastered onto her face. "Where is he?"

3PO's head shifted slightly in confusion. "Why, ma'am, he's right here! Can't you see? Oh, R2, I know the problem! She can't see you; you're not _tall_ enough!" Holly was sure the golden droid planned to continue his unintentional degradation of R2's pride, but she decided to be nice and spare the astromech the humiliation.

"I didn't mean him, 3PO, I meant _him_! Luke!" she laughed, looking around. Unfortunately, she couldn't see his head of shaggy blond hair anywhere, mainly because a hoard of rabid pilots were crowding the group of X-Wings that was undoubtedly Rogue Squadron.

R2 beeped. When 3PO didn't translate, Holly realized that this was some sort of test; she had to test how much she learned.

"Um….it's a noun, the first word….masculine object?—no, it was a pronoun, wasn't it?—He, probably. He….then, um, some type of verb?" Holly shot an apologetic glance to her two language instructors. "I'm sorry, I can't hardly discern interrogative segments from imperatives; I'm hopeless at this!"

3PO scoffed. "I would have hoped you retained more information than that, seeing as you've been learning for three years!"

That statement brought an odd feeling to her stomach, but Holly tried to ignore it. "Again, I'm sorry," she said. "What did he say, though?"

R2 beeped again, as if Holly would understand. She heard the word 'attempt,' and quite possibly a modifier similar to 'pathetic,' but everything else was just a bunch of bleeps to her.

Probably insulting bleeps, too.

"Master Luke is giving a report to the Princess," 3PO relayed. "As there were no fatal casualties, it is to be assumed that the mission went well."

Holly smiled again. So, nobody was hurt after all. And, of course, her mind had jumped to the worst case scenario as soon as the next morning rolled around, being the eternal pessimist that she was.

"I'm going to find him," she declared, turning towards the crowd and stepping forward into the array of rebel troops.

42.

Finding Luke was more difficult than Holly could have ever assumed. If he was the leader of Rogue Squadron, and Rogue Squadron had just returned, was it not to be assumed that he was in the center of the jungle that was the main hangar?

He very well could have been exactly where Holly predicted, but the trouble was, once she was surrounded by people, she was so disoriented by the commotion that she couldn't tell you which way she came, let alone which way to the middle.

She chose one direction and stuck to it—as best she could. Everyone began to disperse, giving Holly a clearer view of where everything was.

It was pointless, though, because Luke was heard before he was seen.

"Holly!" he exclaimed from behind her. The girl in question had just enough time to turn around and face him before Luke caught her in a tight brace.

"H-hi," she chuckled, a bit taken aback. She might like to give a brief hug every once in a while, but each time someone else hugged her, Holly couldn't avoid slight unease. "So, did you miss me, then?"

She decided that it would be awkward if she didn't hug him back, so she wrapped her arms around him briefly before letting them drop, expecting him to do the same.

"Like you wouldn't believe," he responded, smiling gleefully, but still hugging her. The way he said it rallied up the Flying Circus and bought popcorn for everyone there.

Holly's hands played with the hem of her shirt awkwardly. Luke really knew how to hug too long. She blushed nervously and made a small movement, which caused him to drop his arms. "So, um, how….how did it go?"

That sounded like she was asking about a trip to the store, or a day at school. Well, it could have very well just been something that trivial, and she was just overreacting because she missed him.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Luke ruffled his hair. "It was….eventful," he began.

"I know _exactly_ what you mean," Holly quipped sarcastically, alluding to the vagueness of his answer.

"I mean, it was eventful when we weren't sitting around, doing nothing," he amended. "Honestly, you'd be surprised at exactly how much 'doing nothing' there is in an operation like this. _Nothing_ like rescuing the Princess."

"Now, that is something I really _do_ understand." The two of them began to walk away from the largest congregation of people, not really caring what they were doing. "Did you know—well, I'm sure you did, but I didn't—that we've been here for _three years?_ Until, er, I'm not even sure how long ago it was….until you left, I thought we'd been here for a few months, tops!"

He raised an eyebrow and looked upon her with a confused expression. "Seriously?"

"Time's hard to judge when you can't read a calendar," she defended feebly.

"Even if that were so, how could you possibly misjudge a year for a month?" he questioned disbelievingly.

Holly just sighed and explained how confused she was on the issue of time. It was funny, really, because back before any of this had ever happened, she was hell bent on solving the mystery of time—it had confused and enthralled her to such an extent that she spent many hours contemplating what exactly it was, how it worked. It was ironic that none of her past musings could help her in this situation—she'd never dwelt on her perception changing, so she had nothing to go on.

It was like living in a dream, except for the fact that she actually realized something was wrong.

"So, do you think that this has to do with the Force, as well?"

"Honestly, how couldn't it?" Holly rubbed her brow. "I would wait until we've got that reading sorted out, but I'm afraid that I'd have perceived my life away by that time."

Luke fell silent, contemplating. It was an uncomfortable silence, the sort that you'd get after you'd told your parents that you failed your history test (though Holly never had personal experience with that), where you waited with fear for them to share their thoughts.

 _Luke must think I'm more trouble than I'm worth_ , Holly thought to herself. _All these problems—it would have been easier just to ignore them. That's what I would've done, probably, if it weren't me having the problems._

And she wasn't proud of the fact.

"Oh, come on," she sighed. "That's depressing. Let's talk about something exciting! What were the _eventful_ parts of your mission?" She gave Luke a smile, which he gladly returned. Seems he wasn't too into this 'stuck in a hole without answers' mood either.

42.

As she listened to Luke's story, she found her thoughts straying from what he had done then to what he was doing now. She heard his voice, but not what he was saying. Just the tone, the pitch. And as he spoke, she noticed that he used his hands a lot to accentuate something he was describing.

Gosh, she hadn't realized how much she missed him.

When he laughed, she did, too. Not because what he said was particularly funny, but because Holly was just so happy to be back to normal again. However long he had been away had certainly been too long—and Holly was too continually absent from her life to realize it. Now, though, she forced herself to be there. It was so….comfortable, and happy. It was something she wanted to be able to remember, no matter how many other things she seemed to forget or not to notice.

Holly began to half-listen to what he was saying, deciding that it was both rude and slightly creepy to ignore his words and just pay attention to his mannerisms. She noticed that he wasn't too good at condensing things, for he rambled on and on about one thing in particular before he realized that there was something more to tell.

It was hard to follow any particular story, but she was just content to hear him talk. She surprised herself by how willing she was to listen to someone's rambling—though, to be honest, anyone who spoke to her had to listen to rambling, too, so she tried not to be hypocritical.

They found themselves sitting on a ledge that overlooked a stairway heading down to a lower level. It was unnerving, sitting on something where you knew your feet couldn't touch the ground—if they did, in this instance, it would be bad. Holly didn't fancy taking a tumble down the stairs after falling five feet, so she sat stiffly.

Though, once she was comfortable, it was rather exciting. She saw the people walk in and out, not paying her any mind, and she thought of them as ants. Well, ants that were at the level of one's knee.

"Hey, do you ever think about how small some people are?" she wondered aloud. Thankfully, Luke hadn't been talking, so she wasn't being rude.

"Do you mean literally or metaphorically?"

"The latter, of course." Holly paused for a moment, watching a group of pilots and mechanics head to the mess for dinner. "I mean, people like us….we're part of a collective, serving a greater power. The whole war; we're serving those who command. Do you ever thing of the difference between those who….control, and those who are controlled?"

"Where is this coming from?" Luke asked.

"I dunno. I was just thinking. I mean, some people have power over others, and some are just there to be lorded over."

Luke smirked. "That's rather demeaning."

"Well, it's true." Holly imagined the ants again. "It's like some bugs. Ants, bees. They have a queen who tells them what to do, and they just do it without second thought. What if people are the same way?"

"I suppose you can control anyone if you can evoke enough fear," Luke mused along with her. "It's kind of what the Empire's doing. Keeping control through threats and constant presence. You've got no choice."

"Well, you actually do," Holly argued. "You have a choice to fight back. You're part of a rebellion yourself. But if you were a worker bee, for example, you couldn't just think, 'I'm tired of this. I'm going to go sit in that tree.'" Holly hummed. "Good thing we're not bees, I guess."

Luke tilted his head. "What if we are?"

Holly looked over at him. "I suppose you can call yourself Sting and 'bee' anything," she chuckled at the pun. "But even though you're blond, I'm not sure if you can sing."

He must have gotten used to her out-of-place references by now, for he didn't even ask for clarification. "Seriously, though. What if we're controlled by a higher power and we don't know it? I don't mean any god or Emperor or…commanding officer, but rather, someone who we just _couldn't_ disobey."

"'You mean it controls your actions?'" Holly thought aloud. "I suppose you could be right. Like we're some mad scientist's experiments that accidentally gained sentience."

"Or like Jedi who use the Force," he pointed out. "I mean, it's not like I don't want to learn to harness it, but from what I understand….the concept of the Force is rather powerful. We may think we're 'using' it, but it could just control us, and make us think that we have the option to choose."

Holly considered. "It might," she agreed, "but that implies that it's a….thinking being. _Being,_ not force. Would the Force be a 'being?'"

"I suppose one would have to be a Jedi to fully understand that sort of thing," Luke said in resignation. He hopped down from the ledge skillfully, landing solidly on the ground below. "But I've been without real food for a month—I'm rightfully tired of those rations," he pulled a face to illustrate just how distasteful they were. "So, if you're through with this philosophical deliberation, I'd like to get dinner. Care to join me?"

Holly sighed. "Alright," she said, attempting a slide down that was as graceful as his, but she failed completely, losing her footing on the highest step. She'd have taken a tumble down the stairs if Luke hadn't secured an arm around her waist and stopped her fall. "Thanks."

The two of them forgot their previous engagements—at least, Holly did. The X-Wing was basically fixed, and even if it weren't, it would not matter. Luke, who had undoubtedly become her best friend, had been gone for an (as of yet) indeterminate amount of time. Holly would venture to say that he was a bit more important than making some old, decrepit Starfighter look pretty again.

42.

Nothing was a greater sight to behold than the return of Rogue Squadron from their month-long mission. Or so it seemed, by the sheer amount of people crowding around the mess hall. Honestly, you'd think that Luke blew up another Death Star—

Now, that would just be outrageous. The Empire couldn't be stupid enough to build _another_ one.

Still, everyone stopped to speak to the rebellion's Golden Boy. Holly didn't even know that Luke _had_ so many acquaintances, let alone first-name-basis friends.

Holly understood what he had just done. An Imperial ship had landed on an Alliance planet—he had to defend against them, along with the rest of the squadron. And Holly was very proud of him for it, of course, but that didn't mean _everyone else_ had the right to do so.

"Okay," Holly said as yet another person walked away from trying to be Luke Skywalker's best friend. "I guess I missed you a bit, but whatever I felt was _nothing_ compared to these fanatics."

It felt like Comic-Con, every fanboy in the world crowding around the-one and-only whoever-played-Luke in the movies. But this Luke wasn't even a Jedi yet!

"Sorry if it's a bit much," Luke apologized sincerely. "These people don't seem to get the 'keep your distance, I'm tired' look."

Holly chuckled in spite. "I think you just fail royally at the 'stay away' look, that's the problem." And people are too pushy. "God, I'm so glad I'm not famous."

"How 'bout infamous?" Holly sent him a questioning glance. "Well, you're certainly not in many people's good books now, since _you_ get to sit with Skywalker and _they_ don't."

Holly raised an eyebrow. "I think you're letting all this attention get to your head; that was rather pretentious of you to say." She fought the grin that attempted to seize her features and managed to turn it into a mild smirk.

Luke raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I only said that because they're doing nothing but _glaring_ at you!"

Holly glanced around, affirming Luke's report. "Oh, well," she replied nonchalantly.

"What, you don't care what people think of you? At all?" Luke raised his eyes as if skeptical.

She merely shrugged and responded in an airy, rambling voice. "Not really. I suppose people just don't matter." As Holly focused on her food idly, she did not see Luke's smile fall.

"Though that's not _entirely_ true," Holly amended. "I care about some people. Some people matter."

"Yeah?" Luke asked, a smile playing at his features. "Like who?"

Holly looked up, a knowing smirk on her face. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe Han. And Leia, to the extent of my job. Chewie as well, of course….and! oh, yes, the droids. Can't just forget them, now can I?"

Luke attempted to ignore the obvious exclusion of someone in particular, but he must have failed miserably, for Holly could tell that it bothered him.

 _Well, isn't he gullible._ "Oh, come on, Luke!" She laughed to ease his reappearing frown. "Of course you matter, too; you're practically my best friend."

"Really? I'm your best friend?" The surprise in his tone was evident.

"Who else?" She didn't care if he didn't consider _her_ his best friend, because really, that term didn't seem to be of much magnitude to people with as much….camaraderie as the rebels. "Hell, I haven't even told Han of the language difficulty. Although….I think it _may_ be a toss-up between you and 3PO."

He laughed and feigned an accepting expression. "Ah, yes, the great _C-3PO_. Leader of all protocol droids who lack social skills. How will I ever compete with that?"

They joked comfortably back and forth, jumping from one menial topic to the next. Holly did not want to mention how pathetically devastated she had felt those first days for which Luke was absent, for by all conventional norms, it really should not have mattered whether Luke was present or not.

Holly had long since finished her dinner; Luke had, as well. The plates sat off to the side, forgotten. The crowd, too, began to dissipate; the general excitement of the Rogue Squadron's return had dwindled when their leader dismissed everyone's attempt at conversation.

Everyone's but her own, at any rate. Not that Holly particularly cared, but she convinced herself that she and Luke weren't being rude because they were friends, and friends were at liberty to do this sort of thing to third parties.

Weak excuse, yes, but Holy hadn't been bothered by it much anyway.

Luke's fancy space-watch (Holly knew there was another name for it, but she couldn't remember) beeped, signaling the passing of another hour. "It's twenty-two hundred," he reported.

Holly groaned. This was basically the grown-up bedtime. If she thought that being away from home at this hour meant having her own sleep schedule, she was sourly mistaken.

"All right," she sighed. "I sup—" Holly was rather rudely interrupted by her own yawn. "I suppose I am a bit tired. Had to fix that X-Wing twice in a row; damn pilot doesn't know how to even _fly_ it, let alone keep it in tact. Lost some sleep, undoubtedly."

Luke sympathized and nodded tiredly. "Come on, I'll walk you to your quarters."

42.

"I'll see you….tomorrow? If I don't just choose to sleep in," Holly bid goodnight once they reached her door. Luke halted the hand that was raised to thumb in the lock combination.

"Hold on, there was something I wanted to ask you." She turned to him and waited.

"Yeah?"

"While I was away, I think…" he paused, unsure of himself. "It's absolutely crazy, I know, because there was just a great distance, but….Shortly after I left, were you mad or, maybe, disappointed?"

He watched her expression carefully. He had felt her presence clearly through the Force, he assumed. As unlikely as it was, it could be nothing else: over the three years he had known her, Luke had come to recognize exactly what she felt when a spike of emotion rose in her. And it was faint, but nonetheless outstanding to him then, after he had left, that she was distressed.

Her mouth morphed into a frown and her eyebrows knitted. He noticed the crease on the bridge of her nose—he liked her nose. It was well-shaped, looked very graceful above her lips. When she smiled, it was rather pretty.

Holly crossed her arms and sighed. "I felt a lot of things," she conceded. "It was right after I realized that we'd been here _three years_ —I began to entertain outlandish possibilities, thinking of depressing things. It was irrelevant, and I'm honestly surprised you felt it."

"Maybe you were just….that mad," he suggested. "You seem to be, I don't know, fading in and out, sometimes. Every day, it's different. Someone realigns the plasma links incorrectly; I can feel from across the room that you're angry at them. But other days, there's….nothing. It's like you're not there at all. Our conversations, we've had them before. They're menial, just the same things repeated over and over again. Like you're living in your mind most of the time."

He eyed her as she took in his observations. She did not seem surprised. "I think I may know what you're talking about. You felt my anger because I _was_ angry. It had been three years. Three years I'd been here, and it hardly felt like three months—I'd realized that I just wasted three years of my life living in some vacant dream. I was disappointed in what I'd done with my life."

Holly's eyes saddened, sending a spike through Luke's chest. "No, I'm sure it wasn't that extreme." But he sounded unsure himself. "You must've just lost yourself in your work, it could happen all the time." Biggs' words on girls came to his mind again. Don't make them sad, angry, or humiliated; they'd bite your face of if you do. Luke wasn't wary of her words, but he didn't want to hear or see such sadness in her.

"But how does that add up to what you said? I haven't been living, not really. I'm—I'm a drone most of the time. It's like….my body's a place-holder for when I'm actually there. I remember things that happen, things that I learn, but it's not a regular memory that I gain from experience. It's just something that I know." She paused for a moment, chasing a thought. "I know what it feels like. When I'm dreaming, I remember specific things, but I don't actually _remember_ what lead up to it. I just know."

Luke was taken aback. What did she mean? "You think this is all a dream?"

"No, no; it's all too real for that. The times that I am thinking, that I am aware—times like these, for example—they're real. I can feel them, remember them, just like any other memories. But others, I'm just living my life away, waiting for something important to happen."

Holly held her chin in a tense palm, looking somewhere to Luke's left. Her eyes held the same sadness as before. Luke didn't know what exactly it was about her completely lost expression that made him do it, but before he really registered what he did, Luke had pulled her into a tight hug.

"You're not going to 'live your life away,'" he told her, one hand stroking the hair that fell over her shoulders. "No more than the rest of us, at least." Not that he had any idea what exactly was going on or, furthermore, how to fix it, but assurance couldn't hurt, could it?

Holly hugged him back just as tightly. He heard her mutter faintly, "They just zap you back in time and let you live to death," but the tone in which she said it told him that the words weren't hers. Her habit of making references must've just been a defense mechanism. "You're a very great friend, Luke. Thank you."

He felt himself smile and closed his eyes. "I really missed you, Holly." After one deep breath, in which he took in the scent of her soft hair, the two of them bid goodnight.

42.

The deteriorating but persistently effective metal hull of the _Millennium Falcon_ did little to block out the hum of the hangar in which it idly sat, though this was a welcome noise. Anything less would have been uncomfortable for anyone in the ship; the _Falcon_ simply could not be quiet, nor should it be.

Holly leaned against the curving seat with her feet propped up on the holographic chess table. She still hadn't figured out its conventional name, but it wasn't as though it mattered. Anyway, the term 'holographic chess' made her think of Wizard's Chess in a Federation starship's holodeck. It brought her comfort and familiarity.

She was alone, a fact for which she was grateful; anyone else present would take away from her purpose here, distract her. Holly wished only to preserve this ship wholly in her memory because, frankly, it was cool.

And she had absolutely nothing else to do at this hour.

Han didn't know that she was there, though Holly doubted that he'd care if he knew. It wasn't as though the _Falcon_ was locked, either; everyone knew not to mess with the ship of Commander Solo and his Wookiee.

Why was is that they both gained ranks in the Alliance, but she herself was still a lonely….er….she didn't even have a rank.

Holly reckoned that it would be pitiful if that actually mattered to her.

Beside Holly sat her bag. She'd kept it under her bed for what must have been over a year, occasionally pulling it out for old time's sake. Now, she considered its contents carefully.

After a few conversations with Luke, he had managed to cheer her up. She no longer felt mad that she didn't have a chance to, of all things, finish her homework; with fantastic tales of different planets they could travel to and different careers she could have, all of her disappointments had disintegrated.

Holly still felt some twinge in her heart when she flipped through her math textbook. Chapters that she had understood but had never been taught: for a while after Holly got to the Rebel Base, she had actually focused on completing the textbooks that she happened to bring with her. It was a pity that she hadn't brought literature, but it wasn't the worst subject not to have; nobody could read what she wrote, anyway, if she could write.

That thought lead to another—when she had spoken with Luke, neither had wondered (aloud, at least) whether she could write anymore.

 _Well, no better time to find out than now._ Holly snatched a binder from her bag, flipping through to one of the few sheets that weren't full of pre-calculus notes.

Lifting a pen, she had barely set it to the paper when hurried footsteps reached her ears.

"Han?" she called out, setting the binder and pen back in her bag. She'd have to try later.

The man himself stormed from around the corner, on the way to the cockpit. "What're you doing here?" he demanded in a harsh voice, though his anger wasn't directed at her. Rather, he just seemed annoyed in general.

Holly stood and crossed her arms. "Nothing, just sitting. Why?"

"In the _Falcon_? Anyway, you're going to have to leave. I'm—"

There was a loud banging, something that they felt reverberate in the floor beneath their feet. Han, spinning back the way they came, grumbled, "Come on, Chewie, couldn't you wait one minute!"

Holly followed him out of the Falcon, leaving her bag there. Underneath the ship, Chewbacca seemed to be dismantling the thing—Holly watched, perplexed, as he placed one large piece of the engine to the side to reach another one.

Han stormed over to him. "Why do you take this apart now? I'm trying to get us out of here and you go and pull both of these!"

Chewie yelled in response, but both of them ignored the Wookiee. "Han, did you just say _trying to leave_?!" Holly demanded. "You're leaving? After _three years_? I thought you'd dealt with that bounty on your last mission!"

He turned to her, fighting to keep a level voice. "Yeah, well, I did, too. But apparently, it's not enough. I've got to leave—no, Holly, don't look at me like that," he groaned.

"You've got a _bit_ more trouble, so you're going to leave entirely? Come on, Han. I get that you've got another life—and if you really want to leave, I suppose it's your choice. But it's bloody cruel of you to stay here for three years and _then_ do this to your friends—why not sever it when you first had the chance, back on Yavin?" Her sharp tone made him shove his hands deep within his pockets.

"I'm sorry, Holly. I wish I could stay—really. But I can't. I'm in too deep with the smuggling business. You don't understand; it's not something you can just leave behind."

"And your friends are?" Holly shook her head. "How could you do this to us? To _Leia_?" His face grew guilty. "It seems I've struck a tender chord."

"Don't bring her into this! It's bad enough with _her_ following me, shoving her nose into my business without you reminding me!"

"Maybe you do need reminding," she thought aloud. Fine. If Han didn't care enough about them to stay behind (or at least to come back), she shouldn't care enough to argue.

The bronze 3PO and R2 strode and rolled respectively into the main hangar, arguing with one another. "Oh, switch off," 3PO told R2 in a tone that suggested that, for droids, 'switching off' was a rather rude swear. "Excuse me, sir, ma'am," he began once he reached them.

"Put those back right now," Han ordered Chewbacca before turning to 3PO.

"Might I have a word with you, please?"

"What do you want?" Holly shot him a glare, but Han ignored it.

"It's Princess Leia, sir. She's been trying to get you on the communicator."

"I turned it off. I don't want to talk to her," Han provided in a spiteful tone.

"Oh. Well, Princess Leia is wondering about Master Luke. He hasn't come back yet; she doesn't know where he is."

Holly asked, "But wasn't he just going on a routine scanning survey?"

"Yeah," Han replied, "but he stayed out a little longer to investigate a fallen meteor."

"You left him out there, and you _turned off your communicator,_ knowing that he's still there?" How _stupid_ could he be? It didn't matter how mad he was at the princess; Luke could have been in trouble and nobody would hear him!

"I don't know where he is."

"Nobody knows where he is," 3PO reported.

"What do you mean, 'nobody knows?'"

"Well, uh, you see…." He trailed off as Han leapt from the deck onto the floor.

"Deck officer. Deck officer!" he called.

Holly's mind raced as the deck officer was incapable of answering Han's questions. Han wouldn't have left Luke somewhere dangerous, would he? And this was only a routine survey, wasn't it? Usually, Luke wouldn't be in _any_ danger. The biggest worry out there was maybe frostbite—but nobody was stupid enough to stay out long enough for that to happen. Maybe Luke was just late, but what if there was something out there that they couldn't foresee?

"Excuse me, sir, might I inquire what's going on?" 3PO asked of Han, who huffed.

"Why not?"

"Impossible man," the bronze protocol droid complained to R2 and Holly. "Come along, R2, let's find Princess Leia. Between ourselves, I think Master Luke is in considerable danger." He turned to Holly, who had a worried look on her face. "Will you be joining us?"

She nodded. "Maybe she'll be able to tell us something now," Holly thought aloud, though she didn't have much hope that Leia would know any more than Han did.

Luke could take care of himself, couldn't he?

42.

I'm so sorry for the lack of punctuality I seem to have with this story-I feel really bad for promising a chapter by a certain time then just ignore that, but summer is now a _lot_ busier than school.

There is going to be a short hiatus for this story. I think I'll do it in between the different movies-it won't be too long, of course, but just so I can get a bit ahead of when I publish the chapters. Maybe then I'll have a steadier update schedule. I don't know how updating will go once I start ninth grade, but I'll try to keep it steady after the hiatus.

Expect the updates to resume about the middle to the end of July, alright?

A special thank you to everyone who's reviewed:

Sardhrantor: I totally agree with you; bad grammar can make even the greatest plot uncomfortable and distracting to read. And I do try to stay away from depressing stuff too. I hope you like this chapter too!

Gigira: Yep, you seem to notice all of the important things that went on...I'm glad you find it intriguing! Thank you for your kind review-And I hope you like the solutions to the mysteries as much as the mysteries themselves!

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: The time you seem to be waiting for will soon come! After the little hiatus, though (sorry). Thanks for reviewing!

Trekkie: Wow. I can't believe I forgot that! Thank you so much for noticing it...Another thing to add to the list of edits when I go over the earlier parts of the story.

Guest: Thank you! Don't worry about the slight language barrier; I can understand you perfectly! I appreciate your review!

bb4ever1000: I'm glad you're enjoying reading it as much as I like writing it...I'll try not to keep you hanging for _too_ long before I release the next chapter! Thank you for reviewing!

So I'll go write some more, and hopefully get a bit ahead with the chapters so that, in the long run, you have updates regularly. Please stick with me guys; I'd never quit this until it's finished, but I hope you don't mind the hiatus too terribly much.


	21. Chapter 21

Hello again! I'm back. I'm sure you didn't miss me too much while I was gone, right? Regardless, I'm back to updating on a hopefully regular schedule. I've written three chapters ahead, so there shouldn't be any delays unless I physically cannot reach my computer.

My retelling of ESB is going to differ from the movie more than ANH did. It's not going to change canon too much (at least, as little as it _can_ with an OC adition), but said OC does have her own story to tell. It'd be pretty boring if I just retold ESB as you know and love it, wouldn't it?

Chapter 21:

The icy walls of the Tauntaun pen seemed to sap the warmth from Holly's body as she stood in the middle, gazing upon the native creatures. Their stench permeated the room and the corridors beyond, but the comfort of her nose was the last of Holly's worries.

"You're going after him, right?" Holly questioned in a quiet, worried voice.

"I have to, don't I?" Han answered. He buttoned his parka and snatched a Tauntaun saddle from the frozen wall, heading over to the pen in which the native beasts slept. "He'd do the same for any of us."

"I know he would." It was difficult not to know that he'd be all right. "That's why I feel horrible for not doing anything to help."

Tightening one buckle on the saddle, Han turned to her. "It may be better that you didn't. You've never ridden one of these things; it would be more harm than good if I have to rescue the both of you."

Holly sighed. "I know," she admitted, kicking at a pile of snow. "But that's not much of a consolation. I don't like that you guys always go on dangerous missions."

"What, afraid you're being left out?" Han laughed.

Holly's brow crinkled irritably. "No," she snapped, "I just don't want any of you to get yourselves killed for this bloody rebellion!"

"Weren't you the one who tried to convince me to stay, though?" He patted the Tauntaun reassuringly, for its growing agitation showed that it was not happy with Holly's raised voice. "Quiet down, too; you're upsetting this beast."

Holly began to pace nervously. "I concede, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. There's nothing else you could be doing—" Holly knew that much from her limited knowledge of the franchise. Everyone loves their rebels, don't they? It made sense for such a generic plotline to be in the most generic battle between good and evil there was. "Nonetheless, I was never an enthusiast for the military, no matter what military that happened to be. And I really don't want either of you killed."

Han crossed his arms and gave her a firm look. "Holly, believe me. I'm not going to let him die."

Although she wanted to argue that it wasn't always his choice, Holly kept her mouth firmly shut. She was afraid that if she tried to speak, she'd start shouting again.

"It'll be a short trip, I'm sure of it. I bet you anything that Luke's communicator is just jammed; he'll be back before you know it," Han assured.

"You bet me anything, huh?" Holly let out a short laugh. "Will you wager your precious _Falcon_?"

"Are you kidding me?" he retorted sarcastically. "Not even _Luke_ is worth that."

She nodded. "Yeah? Not the ship, then." Holly trailed off, hearing 3PO arguing with R2 in the corridor outside, their indiscernible words hardly reaching her ears. "Wait a moment—Han, you have pockets, right?"

The smuggler raised a brow. "Pockets? Of course I have pockets."

Holly reached a hand in the pockets of her own parka. "Now, what have I got in my pocket?" she asked herself quietly, just for the sake of it. "Would you be willing to take Xenon with you?"

She pulled the small droid from his protective layer of cloth and held him out in one hand. He stretched his limbs slowly, as if he were a dog waking from an exceptionally long nap.

"What, are you _that_ tired of him that you'd give him away to me?" Han smirked.

"I installed that transmitter—the one that you found in your cargo bay—in R2. The two of them can talk; they have conversations all the time. If you can take Xenon and just keep him activated in your pocket, he can transmit data to R2. I know you'd transmit data to Echo Base anyway, but I'll stay close to R2 and get my own updates."

Xenon turned to look at her, the unspoken question evident in his stance. "Don't worry, little guy. Mean old Han Solo won't try to smash you like he did at the Cantina. And if he tries to kill you, you try to kill him right back," she cooed. Schooling her voice, Holly told him, "You're going to be fine. I'll see you in no time, right?"

She extended her hand to Han. He glanced quickly from her to Xenon before accepting the droid, who made a warning click. "Hey, you can calm down," he snapped, pocketing the droid warily. "I'm not a fan of your droid," Han whispered.

"Deal with it," Holly dismissed. "His bark is worse than his bite."

"It better be." Han grabbed the reigns of the Tauntaun and lead it from the pen.

42.

The frigid air turned Holly's nose pink as it swept strands of hair and flakes of snow into her face. She had tucked her legs as close to her torso as she could, wrapping the oversized parka around her knees and shivering.

Next to her stood R2 and 3PO, discussing majorly amongst themselves. They had given up trying to talk sense into Holly, because she was behaving even more negatively than 3PO, which was a great feat.

"Has Xenon said anything?" Holly asked.

R2 bleeped a response. "I'm very sorry," his counterpart translated, "but your droid reports no sight of Luke."

Holly dropped her head into her hands. Where could they be? The sun was setting, and it had been nearly two hours since Han left to retrieve Luke. Should they not be back by now? Unless something went wrong….

 _Han Solo, I will_ destroy _your precious_ Millennium Falcon _if you come back dead._

42.

The doors were closing. Holly couldn't help but squint into the distance, searching for whatever spec in the distance may signal the arrival of Han and Luke. The unending white and grey of the mountains, however, bore no visible sign of either of them.

"I'm afraid that the signal between R2 and Xenon is dying, ma'am," 3PO informed her. "There are any number of things that could have gone wrong—either droid's matrix could be malfunctioning in dozens of different ways. I'm afraid that the probability of troubleshooting the problem before it may be too late, let alone without your droid here, is dangerously. Approximately seven—"

"All right, 3PO," Holly patted his shoulder with a grim look. "I get it. It's not working. Thanks for trying, though," she gave R2 a quick glance before retreating.

Unable to relay the stats to Holly, the bronze droid turned to Princess Leia, leaning against one of the ships. Her face was sullen, in a way that Holly had not seen on her before; was Leia not supposed to always be strong? Looking at her face made Holly's own sadness worsen.

"R2 says the chances of survival are seven hundred seventy-five to one," 3PO reported. Bless him, he thought he was helping. Holly knew that this wouldn't bring any consolation to the princess.

Retreating, the protocol droid added, "Actually, R2 has been known to make mistakes….from time to time." His voice faded away as he and R2 retreated.

Holly wondered what she could say to Leia to comfort her, to convince her that Luke and Han were all right, but she wasn't even sure of that herself. Lying about it certainly couldn't help.

"I'm sure they wouldn't die like this," Holly thought aloud. It was true; hypothermia was such an undignified death for the likes of Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. Holly knew that it was ridiculous, basing most of her expectations on what makes a good story, but she hoped at it was true.

"'Like this?'" Leia turned to her, voice flat, quiet. "How would you _expect_ them to die?"

"With a bang," Holly said, "if they had to die at all."

Holly's lack of pessimism didn't sit well with Leia, it seemed. She rounded on Holly, suddenly angry. "You're not taking this seriously!" she snarled. "You don't take anything seriously! Real life isn't one of your fictitious stories where everyone lives and the good guys always save the day!"

Leia had never liked it when Holly spoke to Han or Luke (or even the droids, for that matter) about the different stories back on Earth. Apparently, they were too 'unrealistic' because nobody made sacrifices. Holly had stared at her, agape, wondering exactly why she had wanted Captain Kirk to die Holly told of the adventures of the _Enterprise_.

Leia didn't know about Holly being from 'Earth'. When it was mentioned, Holly just called it 'home.' The princess didn't know anything about the true nature of Holly's homeworld, save for the fact that the storytellers born and raised there had forgiving imaginations, and she _certainly_ didn't know that her own story was the product of someone's insane sci-fi dream.

Holly couldn't help it; the irony brought a smirk onto her face. Yes, she was scared to hell that Luke and Han wouldn't be perfectly fine, but her morbid sense of humor couldn't rest. If they died like this, the world (her world, that is) would be outraged—it would be like Frodo dying at Weathertop, letting the ring fall to the ground, never to be seen again. The entertainment industry wouldn't stand for that.

"Yes, yes," Holly said. "I'm sorry. But I'm sure they're going to be all right. They've got to be stronger than we give them credit for."

Holly wasn't just dismissing it as unimportant, making a joke out of everything. Instead, she just used humor to diffuse the situation. It was one thing for her to be all grouchy and sad, but the hypocritical and epithetical part of her couldn't stand to see another person so unhappy.

"I hope your faith in them isn't misplaced, or you won't be so nonchalant by the time morning comes," Leia warned, pointing a menacing finger at Holly before turning on her heel and storming out.

42.

That night, Holly couldn't rest. The few hours of sleep she did catch were filled with unsettling dreams of frostbite, the Abominable Snowman, and murderous, rioting fans.

42.

"O'Reilly," called the voice of Captain Russel from across the table. "You need to put down that compression coil and down to the main hangar bay. They've found Skywalker!"

Holly's head shot up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. It took a moment for the words to register in her mind; she'd been so deep in thought before. "What— _what_!" A vast grin broke out on her face and she was racing down the icy corridor.

She skidded to a stop when, at the entrance to the main hangar, she saw a shifting crowd of pilots and mechanics, quickly making way for someone or something that had to leave the hangar quickly. Could that be Luke?

It soon transpired that it was, in fact, Luke. Except he wasn't exactly how Holly would have liked to see him—laid out on his back on a stretcher, eyes closed shut. He wasn't moving. Three medics pushed the stretcher quickly to what Holly assumed was the med bay, flanked by Princess Leia and Han.

Holly rushed over to them. "What's wrong with him?" She demanded of Han, next to whom she walked. Luke wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving?

They turned a corner and Leia stepped forward to open the doors. Suddenly, Holly saw Luke's face—and she paled.

It was covered in blood and scrapes, as though Luke had a particularly nasty run-in with a rogue Bludger. A rogue Bludger with spikes. Holly's insides squirmed as she took in the crimson blood that had begun to coagulate on the right side of his face.

She began to feel woozy.

"Okay, okay, Holly," Han said, putting a hand quickly on her shoulder. He must've seen the look on her face—and he knew how she was around wounds. "Luke's going to be fine, Holly. They're going to treat him with bacta for a couple of hours and then he'll be perfectly all right, got it?"

Holly looked from Han to Luke again, pressing her lips into a thin line. She felt something—her own worry, of course, but it was something that wasn't entirely hers. She could feel Luke's pain regardless of whether or not they had any type of empathy just because she was squeamish, but that wasn't it either. There was an old, familiar pain, reminiscent to that he had felt when Obi-Wan or his Aunt and Uncle died.

There was something else, too—sadness had been repressed by an unceasing curiosity. His mind was swimming in a lake of confusion that Holly couldn't possibly comprehend. Despite him being unconscious, Luke's emotions were anything but restful.

 _What happened to you, Luke?_

42.

Holly sat next to a med droid, staring at one of their computer screens. She couldn't read anything on it, but it was all blue and black—nothing red, which she had come to associate as 'error' with these Rebel Alliance computers. She was familiar enough to medical instruments to know what the pulse reading was—his was steady, from what she gathered.

Next to her, Han and Leia stood silently, staring at the bacta tank in front of them. Holly had been adamantly not looking in Luke's direction….not only did she want to spare herself the sight of his injuries, but she felt that it was a testament to his privacy. He was basically floating in the tank with just a diaper; it was one thing to be seen like that by his own sister and his same-gendered friend, but as Holly was neither a man nor a blood relation, she felt that it would be wrong.

Han's jacket let out a strange clicking. More specifically, his pocket did. Before Han himself had time to react, Holly jumped out of her chair and snatched Xenon from Han's pocket. He gave her an incredulous look as she sent a reproachful glare his way.

"You didn't treat him well," she scolded.

"What?!" he asked, affronted. "Your droid just sat there! He didn't do anything to me, I didn't do anything to him!"

Holly cooed, "Han's just a big meany, Xenon, I know." Xenon must have _seriously_ disliked Solo—he nudged his face into her hand affectionately. "All right, buddy, you weren't gone _that_ long," she laughed.

Han huffed. "You better watch it, _Xenon_ , or I'll just…happen to misplace your power cell," he threatened.

"You do that and I'll just _happen_ to misplace the spatial catalyzer of your precious _Falcon_ , Han," Holly retorted, "so that next time you want to make a hyperspace jump, you'll be dead in the water."

Han was about to bite back a reply when Leia cut them off. "Shut it with your childish bickering," she ordered. "They're taking Luke out of the bacta, but it'll be at least a half hour until he fully wakes."

Holly spared the bacta tank a hurried glance before quickly looking away. "Holly," Leia continued, "since you've already skipped enough work today—"

"I'll get back to it, yes," Holly finished.

Leia raised a brow. "I was going to suggest you stay in the med bay with Luke," she contradicted. "He'll need someone with him when he wakes up. Han and I have to meet with Rieekan in five."

"You and me, Princess?" Han wondered. "Why'd he need both of us?"

"Just come on," Leia urged as she turned to leave, shooting one last worried glance to Luke.

42.

Holly was, quite frankly, bored. She had nothing to do but sit in a chair and twiddle her thumbs.

Which, incidentally, is exactly what she was doing.

Of course, it was thumb twiddling with style; Xenon jumped from finger to finger, trying to hang on as best he could when Holly turned her thumbs. It was tricky for Holly because she was trying to make him lose his balance and fall into her lap—but he was surprisingly good at latching onto her fingers.

Holly focused on Xenon in her effort to ignore the figure on the bed beside her. She wanted to look at him, she really did; but whenever her gaze drifted his way, she had to snap her eyes shut. The bacta had worked wonders, but it physically pained her to see even the most minor of injuries on everyday strangers—to see Luke, someone she had known and cared about for three years, was much worse.

Would he think it rude, though, to try and ignore his injuries? Or maybe he'd think he was absolutely hideous—Holly couldn't imagine him being so vain, but something like that could happen to best of them.

He really wasn't ugly. Even with the scars….Holly made herself turn her head, eyes falling on his peacefully relaxed face. No, indeed not. He had changed, of course, since she'd first met him back on Tatooine—both physically and mentally. He'd aged, obviously, but so had she—everyone did.

But he'd also gotten….calmer. Holly could still tell that there were hints of the dreadfully naïve and impulsive kid still in him, but he had become more reasonable.

He was clever, too. Holly couldn't forget that; it was always fun to talk with him. About anything, really, and it wouldn't feel stupid. They could have a completely philosophical discussion about a greater controlling power, then a serious question about bees within the same conversation.

Though she hated seeing him injured, Holly had to smile. Not at the sight of him, of course, but at the thought; Luke was brilliant. The times that she got to spend with him were, most probably, the best parts of being here. After all, it had been him who convinced her to stay, rather than exhausting both of their efforts in the futile search for a way home.

There was a soft beeping from the console a few feet away from Holly's chair. Holly glanced at it, seeing a difference in the readings of his heart rate. Was this bad? Turning back to Luke, Holly saw his eyes flutter slowly open.

He was waking up!

Holly set Xenon down on her knee and leaned forward. "Luke?" she asked softly.

He slowly turned his head to her. Holly could tell that he wasn't entirely awake yet; his eyes were slightly out of focus as he tried to catch her gaze.

"Good morning," he said lazily. "What're you doing here?"

Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Holly leaned back and let him observe his surroundings. "What?" he demanded in confusion and alarm. "Holly, why…." He tried to climb out of his bed quickly, but in his state of disorientation, he very nearly fell from the bed.

"Woah, hold on a sec," Holly warned, catching his shoulders so he wouldn't have to take the life-threatening (or at least, ego-threatening) fall from the bed to the floor. "The med droids said you'd be a bit disoriented for few minutes after waking up. Do you remember what happened?"

"Now I do," he grunted, using her arms as support as he sat back onto the bed. Luke rubbed his eyes. "How bad was it?"

Holly bit her lip. "Not too bad," she said, though the way he flinched in pain when he felt the scars on his face didn't provide much supporting evidence. He shot her a questioning look. "Well, it was worse before," she amended.

"How was it before?" he scoffed.

"Honestly, Luke," Holly sighed. "You look fine. It's just a bit of scarring—I'm sure it'll go away in no time." He seemed to accept that answer. "What happened to you out there, anyway? Han said he just found you in the snow."

"There was a—a meteorite," yawned Luke, who raised his eyebrows in an effort to bring alertness to his sleep-addled mind. "I went to check it out—I know there're loads of meteors in this system, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't anything….dangerous, you know? A scanner or probe."

"Yeah?" Holly nodded, waiting for him to go on.

"But the Tauntaun I had with me, she started acting up," Luke retold. "She'd seen a Wampa behind us. You know what a Wampa is, right?"

"I heard some mechanics talking about one that was apparently spotted to the east," Holly said. "They're bipeds, right?"

Luke laughed grimly. "Don't worry about their feet—it's the claws you should look out for," he said, gesturing to his face.

Holly spared him a pitying glance. "I'm really sorry." Then she asked, "How did you get away from it? Wouldn't something like that have knocked you out?"

"It did," he affirmed. "He had me hanging from the ice. Upside-down!" He grinned at the thought. "But what happened next—Holly, you wouldn't believe what I did!"

"Let me guess, you sang it a lullaby and snuck away?"

"Not exactly. What it had forgotten to do was take away my weapon. Not the blaster—it got that—but the lightsaber. . It fell from my pocket into the snow a few feet away. I couldn't reach it."

"And that helped you, how….?"

He grinned and fixed her with an excited look. "Holly, I summoned it! With the Force!"

Holly's mind went blank. She knew that she was supposed to say something, but she couldn't come up with anything mildly intelligent to respond with. So, in the end, she just settled with, "Er, what?"

Luke showed no trace of residual weariness as he bolted forward to emphasize, "Don't you get it? It was a yard away—definitely out of my reach. I just calmed down, and I concentrated. I pictured it flying out of the snow into my hand—and it just came!"

She couldn't help but laugh at his wide smile. "It seriously worked, then?" He nodded. "Why didn't it work before when we tried it a couple of years ago?"

"Maybe you weren't there to tell me I couldn't do it," Luke smirked. "But seriously? I'm not sure. It might have had to do with that situation being….I don't know, life or death, I guess. If I didn't find a way down and out of there, the Wampa would kill me."

Holly considered this. It made sense; perhaps it was some sort of Jedi survival instinct. Or, it could have been because of the fact that, before, Luke wasn't trying to summon a Jedi weapon. Maybe it was a magnetic lightsaber and Luke had a magnetic hand.

Yeah, not so much. "What if I said that _I'd_ kill you if you didn't….hmm, if you didn't summon that tricorder over there?" Holly pointed to a table of medical instruments.

"Tricorder?" Luke sent her a quizzical glance. Holly felt herself blush.

"Oh, you know! The scanner." Elementary mistake, really; it _did_ look like a tricorder, after all.

Luke laughed good-naturedly. "You couldn't kill me," he dismissed.

"Couldn't, or wouldn't? Because I could and would very well do both if you continue to doubt me." Of course, it was a jest, but she was sure that she _could_ kill anybody who was sitting in a hospital bed like a bump on a log, waiting for medication to wear off. The only issue is, Holly certainly _wouldn't_ kill Luke, no matter what condition he was in.

Luke adopted a rather Han-like mannerism and stated confidently, "You wouldn't kill me because you like me too much."

Again, Holly blushed, but she played it off as laughing too much. Holly didn't _blush_ , she laughed. There was a difference. "Don't get too cocky, Luke, or you may have to change your name to Han. And trust me, what this base _doesn't_ need is two Solo's."

"Then wouldn't we be Han Duo?" he smirked cheekily.

This time, Holly genuinely did laugh, but only because Luke's joke was so bad that she pitied him. "I'm glad you're back, but you didn't have to pick up a bad sense of humor along the way."

"Like yours is any better," he retorted, and the two of them fell into a silence.

It was an uncomfortable silence. The conversation had reached the point where one had said there fill and they should now leave. But Holly couldn't exactly just return to work, not only because Leia had told her she oughtn't even return today, but because she had been obligated to watch over the Princess's injured brother.

Holly snuck a glance back at Luke. Unfortunately, she discovered that his face had contorted into a look of concentration. His gaze quickly shot from her, to the floor, and back again, as if he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure how.

"What's wrong?" Holly asked, worried. "Do the scars hurt? I could call for the med droid, or the doctor."

"No, nothing's hurting," he replied, but his expression remained troubled. "It's just….I've had something on my mind, since after the Wampa attack," he began.

"You meant, all of the twenty minutes you've been conscious?"

He didn't laugh. "I dreamt about it, too. It's just….right before Han found me, I saw something. Some _one_."

"Who?" Did he see the great Hothian Hermit that wasn't actually fabled to stalk the snowy mountain tops?

"Ben."

"Who?" He just looked at her for a moment. "Oh, Old Ben! Obi-Wan! Sorry." He sighed exasperatedly. "Wait….what? Seriously?"

"Yeah. He….spoke to me." Luke furtively caught her gaze, as though he were afraid she'd think he was insane. Though what he said did sound ludicrous, he would hardly be the madder than Holly.

"And what did he say?" Holly wondered slowly. Obi-Wan hadn't come back to haunt him, did he? That would be unsettling.

Luke said, "He wanted me to resume my Jedi training."

"I wasn't aware you'd actually stopped."

"Well, I didn't, not really," he agreed, "but I never really progressed, either. We were both just doing the same old stuff, you know?"

She smirked. "You mean all that nothing that we were accomplishing?"

"Yep, and I'd say we were getting pretty good at it to." Luke shook his head and smiled. "But that's exactly the thing—I was getting better with a lightsaber for a while, but there's only so much I could do on my own." There wasn't exactly another lightsaber with which the two of them could fight, if Holly weren't scared to death of lightsabers already. As she hadn't really been much help to him when he practiced, Holly made herself scares, so as not to suffer another burn.

He continued, "And apparently, Ben knew that. He said to go to the Dagobah System—but I'd never even heard of the place. I've never seen it on any star charts. But then again, I didn't look. And when I get there, I'm supposed to find the last of the Jedi."

Holly quirked a brow in confusion. "There's more of them? I guess I thought you'd be the last."

"So did I. But, it's not exactly 'them'—there's only one." He hesitated a moment. "He told me to find the Jedi Master Yoda."

It was a terrible misfortune that Holly could not help but say aloud exactly what she thought. "Oh, Yoda! Yoda. Right." Thankfully, all she thought was a repeat of the name—but Luke eyed her oddly.

"You're familiar with the name?" he inquired skeptically.

Oh no—yes, it was one of the few names that she could actually recognize, because Yoda was quite famous, but she wasn't supposed to know anything about him. _Dang it_. "What? No. I just like the way it sounds. Yoda. Y-O-D-A, Yoda. It's funny."

Holly could tell by Luke's face that he suspected more to that. "You're sure you've never heard of him?"

Okay, so he wasn't buying the 'funny' thing. Holly wondered briefly if it would be easier in the long run to just come clean about the television thing—but that would bring up way too many immediate problems and, though she wasn't pleased with the fact, Holly shied away from the responsibility it would entail.

"Nobody I know would ever think of a name as ludicrous as Yoda, and even if they did, they'd have to really hate their kid to give it that name. I've _never_ heard of Yoda before in my life."

He still looked disbelieving, but he let the subject drop. Or, rather, he was forced to drop it, because they hear the clanking of metal feet on the floors. They turned towards the door, and lo and behold, 3PO came through, R2 accompanying.

"Master Luke, sir, it's so good to see you fully functional again." Luke smiled wearily at him. "You had us all worried rather extremely last night, I'm afraid. Holly even parted with XE-742 in the hopes of getting more immediate news on yours and Captain Solo's well-being."

"You let _Han_ take _Xenon_?" Luke shook his head. "That can't have worked out well."

"Neither party particularly enjoyed it," came a voice. Han strode through, with Chewbacca following closely behind. "How you feeling, kid? Don't look so bad to me. In fact, you look strong enough to pull the ears off a Gundark."

"Thanks to you. However, I don't think that Holly would agree," he shot the said engineer a glance. Holly only pondered what exactly he meant by this for a moment.

"So what, she's squeamish? She'll get over it," dismissed Han. Holly scoffed indignantly, though she wasn't sure which one of them to look at. In the end, she just ended up sharing a significant look with Chewie as she stood and let Xenon crawl from her arm to his. "Now that's two you owe me, junior," the arrogant smuggler directed to Luke.

Han grinned when Leia entered the room. Holly groaned; the two were most certainly going to start another argument.

"Well, your Worship, looks like you managed to keep me around for a little while longer." He crossed his arms and smirked the trademark Solo smirk that Holly had come to like just as much as she hated it.

Leia turns up her nose. "I had nothing to do with it. General Rieekan thinks it's dangerous for any ships to leave the system until we've activated the energy shields."

"That's a good story," said Han in a way that reminded her sharply of Tom Paris. "I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight."

Holly didn't want to continue to stand in the middle of their argument. She stood and crossed to the other side of the room, sighing exasperatedly.

"I don't know where you get your delusions, laser brain." _What a clever insult_ , Holly thought sarcastically. _Leia's really stepping up her game_. Chewie seemed to genuinely agree as he let out a Wookiee chuckle.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Han insulted Chewbacca, who didn't take kindly to being compared to something so harmless. "But you didn't see us alone in the south passage."

Holly rolled her eyes, but she noticed that Luke looked between the two bickering rebels quickly. Holly passed it off as his protectiveness towards his sister as Han through a shoulder around the princess. "She expressed her true feelings for me."

Leia stared him down indignantly, trying to hide the blush rising in her cheeks. Holly couldn't help pitying her. "My….! Why, you stuck up….half-witted….scruffy-looking...nerf-herder!"

"Who's scruffy-looking?" demanded Han before turning to Luke, who just looked uncomfortable. "I must have hit pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh, kid?"

Holly folded her arms and looked down, stepping back. She didn't want any part in their awkward love story. At least, it was awkward for an onlooker.

The princess took a deep breath and schooled her furious expression. She spared Holly the tiniest of glances. "Well, I guess you don't know everything about women yet."

Holly didn't know what to expect her to do—maybe storm out, make throw a punch (though that didn't seem like something Leia would do). Even kissing Han would be more probable than what Leia actually did.

Leia took a deep breath and kissed Luke—not on the cheek, like sisters might usually do, but on the lips.

Holly was sure her face went completely white as her eyes widened in mingled surprise and alarm.

42.

And it's done! Hope you enjoyed it. And to the reviews of the last chapter:

DinosaurImperialSoldier: I've written out the Imperial Attack, and it'll be posted soon. And the relationship between Holly and Luke is a bit slow, but I didn't want to rush into it, so I did the exact opposite. There will be some headway soon, though!

jinglepinglepie: Yeah, I'd guess that the amount of Star Trek trivia puts the Expanded Universe to shame (maybe). Thanks for understanding, though! And since you mentioned it, I love Quark. He's a great character. And we mainly share reasons for hanging around in the Star Wars fanfiction corner of the internet...

myharlequinromance321: It's fine! Your life gets in the way of things; I'm quite familiar with it. And I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the fic the way you like it so far! Thank you for reviewing!

EGGS: Glad you liked those two chapters! I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out what Holly does when the Stormtroopers attack...and as for the characters, I have to say that Remus Lupin and Obi-Wan are my favorites. Yours is certainly a good choice, though!

TheFrenchGuest: Xenon's back in this chapter! Don't worry about him being absent; I love him just as much, so I'll try and write as many scenes with him as I can. Thank you for your review!

Sardhrantor: Thank you _so_ much for catching my errors and letting me know about them. An extra pair of eyes always helps. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

bb4ever1000: Thank you! I'm personally really excited for the new events...and I hope they keep falling into place, instead of falling apart. I'll keep updating, though, and thanks for your support!

KiwiBird13: So glad you like it, and that you seem so enthused...It's really appreciated. Thank you for sharing your thoughts!

Killergodzilla02: Sorry to keep you hanging for so long-but it's finally here! Thanks for reviewing.

See you next week with chap. 22!


	22. Chapter 22

I don't have much to say in this A/N except for: Thank you guys for all the support. I'm eternally grateful for everyone who's followed, favorited, and reviewed this story! So, without further ado...

Chapter 22:

"That can't even be _legal_."

Holly shuffled stiffly room before Leia even broke the kiss. Her stomach was churning, the remnants of breakfast not agreeing with her any more. She had to clamp her mouth shut and keep a hand on her midriff while she thought of anything other than what she had just witnessed.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

 _They—they're brother and sister!_ Holly's mind screamed. That was _absolutely_ disgusting! Didn't they see what was wrong about it? Leia didn't seem ashamed or repulsed, and Luke only looked surprised. Holly hadn't seemed them pull away—God, she hoped that they had by now—and it just left her wondering, _Why?!_

Pressing her back against the mingled metal and ice of the wall, she crossed her arms over her torso. The two of them weren't….together, were they? Holly didn't know which would have been better: if this was a regular thing amongst people in this galaxy, and it wasn't abnormal for one to be….together with their sibling, or if it was absolutely repulsive to everybody else _but_ them, and they just ignored the fact that they were related because….well, Holly couldn't fathom why anyone would want to do that.

The very woman on whom Holly's thoughts were dwelling nearly stormed passed without noticing her, but she stopped short and spun to glance at her and say in a sharp voice,

"I'm sorry about that, Holly, but it was the easiest way to…." She trailed off, shaking her head, but didn't lose her irritated tone. "That insufferable man. Don't think anything of what just happened, Holly, please. Things are complicated enough without you getting jealous."

Leia then just scowled—maybe to herself, maybe at Holly, or maybe at the situation in general—and continued on, leaving Holly in confusion, wondering what part of the situation she was lacking insight to.

Would Leia really kiss her brother just to get Han jealous? That seemed a _bit_ extreme.

Over the public announcer, a voice called for the headquarters personnel to report to the command center.

Han strode from the med bay down the hall, followed by the droids and Chewie, who held Xenon atop his head. The Wookiee roared a greeting to Holly as they passed, and she just nodded.

Before Holly could dissuade herself, she fell into step with 3PO, who was slower than the rest of them. "Hey, hang back, will you?"

"Of course, ma'am," he complied, "But I'm afraid I can only stay for a moment. I will undoubtedly be needed in the command center—they'd be lost without my assistance, you know."

Holly nodded. "Noted. But—er, I wanted to ask you. What happened back there—" she pointed back to the med bay "—is that, um, usual?" she asked with much awkwardness.

"Why, it's quite common," answered the droid. "Unfortunately. It's quite an unsanitary practice; most people simply aren't aware of how many diseases they can spread simply through kissing."

Sighing, Holly clarified: "No, I mean like _that_." She didn't want to have to actually say it aloud, but the confused tilt of his head told her that she had to. "Between….brother and sister?" she whispered this last, in case someone overheard.

"Why, what are you talking about, Mistress Holly? The two of them are of no relation….that anyone knows of. Leia Organa has no brother, and I do not believe Luke has a sister, either."

It hit Holly like a ton of bricks. _Oh no!_ she gasped. _They don't know!_

"I beg your pardon?"

Holly swore quietly when she realized that she'd said that aloud. " _Oh, gorramit!_ 3PO, you can't tell anybody, please," she begged. "You can't say anything to anybody about that—I was mistaken. Simple as that…. _but it's important that you don't repeat it!_ " Wouldn't _that_ raise a few brows.

"Of course," 3PO responded. "Humans can be mistaken at times. It's one of the ways in which droids like myself are superior." Holly was sure that his nose would be raised snottily in the air—if he had a nose.

Holly let out a deep breath. There—it was done with. 3PO wouldn't tell anybody, so nobody would think anything of her knowledge; nobody would know.

"I really must head to the command center now, Mistress," 3PO excused himself.

"All right." Holly watched him amble off, still very much wishing that she hadn't just seen Luke and Leia kiss. She supposed it was some comfort to know that they weren't aware of their relation, but not much, because there was still the fact that it happened.

Even _if_ they weren't related, it….it wasn't right. The two of them shouldn't be kissing. Anyhow, Leia was supposed to be with Han, wasn't she? Eventually, at least.

And Luke? Well, he shouldn't kiss anybody.

Ever.

"Holly?"

Her head snapped around. Luke stood in the doorway of the med bay, leaning against the framework as though he were still recovering. Which was probably true; the medical droid had told Holly that the effects of Luke's medicine and the bacta would wear off quickly, but not immediately.

She was aware that she was still standing, leaning moodily against the wall with her arms crossed sternly. Holly put them stiffly at her sides. "You shouldn't be up yet," she told him. "I'd wager you still have twenty minutes until the medicine's worn off." That was a complete lie, for she had no idea what the recovery time for his treatment was, but she hoped he'd fall for it.

It was basically a socially appropriate translation of: _Somebody just kissed you with other people watching. You're awkward now._ Not to mention that said 'somebody' was your sister.

Luke rubbed at his eyes, no doubt dizzy. "Hmm. Yes, I'd agree. But, well, I'd like to ask you something."

She wasn't getting out of the situation, then. Holly sighed and the two of then reentered the med bay, where they sat across from each other on the bed and chair.

Holly looked at him expectantly. "So, what is it?" She just prayed that it had nothing to do with _his sister kissing him_.

"What just happened—with Leia." The moment he said this, Holly paled. "It didn't mean anything—she was just mad at Han. Not that it matters, of course. But it didn't mean anything."

That didn't exactly comfort her—okay, they weren't in any sort of… _relationship_. But Leia still kissed her brother, and Holly wouldn't soon forget that. "Not that it matters," she repeated, her voice terse. "Is that all?"

Luke shook his head, blushing red. "You know what Obi-Wan told you," he began. "You've got to find your own way home, right?"

"He said I could get help," Holly amended. "Just not from him." Well, he actually said that she had to do it herself, but she didn't think he meant _entirely_. That would just be impossible.

"Yes. So….when I go to Dagobah, what are you going to do?" He looked at her with an expression that she could only describe as hopeful.

"I'm not sure," she answered, unsure of why he was asking. "Is there anything specifically that I _should_ do?"

Luke paused a moment. "Obi-Wan also said you could use the Force," he continued. Holly thought she knew where this was going.

"He said I could _feel_ it. I can feel what you're thinking—or feeling—sometimes. But you're the only one who's actually _used_ the Force. And besides," she added, smirking slightly, "I think I have lightsaber-phobia."

He didn't laugh. "What if you _can_ use the Force and just haven't done it yet? You should come with me to Dagobah. Learn from Master Yoda; he taught Obi-Wan. He could help you with everything that we don't understand: why you can't read, why time feels so….short, for you. Why you're here in the first place." There was a pregnant pause, in which both of them were waiting for the other to speak. Luke finally broke the silence when he quietly said, "You may even find a way home."

Holly didn't say anything for a while. Her first thought was an immediate _no_. No, she couldn't meet Yoda. He'd see right through her—her knowledge of the movies (granted, it was a limited knowledge, but it was more than any of the actual characters seemed to know, if the previous occurrence was anything to go by). Obi-Wan saw through her lie as though it were made of thin glass. Yoda, his teacher, would certainly discover that she was lying to everyone for three years, and Luke would find out.

Luke would find out that she knows of Vader—and that was something that she didn't want to happen. If Luke kept it a secret for so long, there must be a reason. And it was an obvious reason, too; his dad was the greatest movie villain of all time.

But….maybe, he didn't know. If he didn't know that Leia was his sister, he may not know about his father. That was a great revelation for Holly—she could wait until Luke finds out, and if he tells her, she can act as though it's news for her too. Of course, she already knew how well (or, more appropriately, how badly) she could act, but she was certain she could act surprised, if she _really_ had to.

Still….though Yoda would see through her lie easily, that might not be such a bad thing. If she just came right out and told him—without Luke in earshot, obviously—she didn't have to hide from just _one_ person in the galaxy.

And Holly would be lying to herself if she were to say that she didn't think of home at least every so often. She wasn't sure if she _missed_ it, or if she just missed its familiarity. The rebel base, though she had been there quite a while, was something she never seemed to adapt to. She couldn't just get used to being here; everything felt so temporary, so fleeting.

To her, in a way, it _was_ fleeting; it felt like three months, after all, instead of three years. Even if Yoda couldn't show her how to get home, he could at least let her live her life here—really live it, not just witness a few key scenes.

Luke's voice pulled her out of her deep thoughts. Holly stared up at him, dumbstruck, as she tried to remember what he said. "Sorry, what was that?"

He shook his head. "You're hopeless," he laughed softly. "You live in your head all the time. Nothing matters to you but what you're thinking….I can tell. You get a serious look in your eye, like you're focusing on something very far in the distance."

Holly, embarrassed at being caught blatantly not listening to him, merely asked, "That's what you were saying?"

His expression sobered. "Um, not exactly. It's just that, well, this will be _Jedi training_. It's what I have to do—you have the choice not to. I don't feel that I have that choice. But it's going to take an indeterminate amount of time."

Though she had pretty much agreed (silently, at least), Holly was curious about this new approach. "So?"

"When my aunt and uncle used terms like 'indeterminate amount of time,' that usually meant a _long_ time," he said. "And learning to be a Jedi can't be exceptionally _easy_ , either. It'll take a while before I finish—I don't think there's much shore leave."

Holly's mouth twisted into a smirk. A forced smirk, yes, but she hoped it looked convincing. She was still a bit out of sorts with the recent revelations. "Are you telling me you'll be _lonely_?"

He didn't take that comment harshly. "Wouldn't anyone? I don't know what Dagobah will be like. It could be the most populated planet in its sector, or it could be another desolate wasteland like Tatooine. Either way, nothing will be familiar. It could take _years_ to finish the training."

"So you want me there to keep you company?"

"Yes, basically," Luke said. "You guys—Han, Leia, Wedge, you—you're all that I know, now. But _you're_ the one that I can talk to. About anything. Even if you're not listening half the time." She looked down in slight guilt, but he just chuckled.

"For _years_?" He looked down in defeat, and Holly had to take pity on him. He was her friend, after all; it didn't matter if his sister kissed him (at least it wasn't the other way around), because he was still her friend.

"Alright," she sighed. "I guess I'll go." Holly couldn't honestly say that, in that time, she wouldn't have missed him. It had been horrible when he left for only a month on a rebel mission; if he were to be gone for _years_ without any contact with his old life, Holly was sure she'd be miserable.

Luke grinned broadly. "Thank you," he said sincerely, then pulled her into a hug.

Holly didn't see the reason for this—it wasn't as though he was leaving her behind, after all; this wasn't a goodbye. People (or at least Luke) hugged for the strangest of reasons. Regardless, the little Flying Circus had spurred to life, and it made her arms act of their own accord and hug him back just as tightly as her face flushed red.

She ignored for this moment the fact that he had just kissed his sister—she couldn't think of anything other than the fact that she actually enjoyed his hugs.

42.

Holly whistled an old tune as she bent over R2. She needed something to do while she waited for Han and Luke—the former was off to chase the probe that Luke had seen earlier. She wasn't as worried about Solo; he had a greater sense of self-preservation than the young to-be Jedi, so she doubted he'd risk his life, no matter what he sees out there.

As for Luke, all he had to do was get a checkup. It sounded so menial, despite the severity of its cause. The med droid, ever a stickler for rules, had ordered her out so he could properly assess his state of health 'without distractions,' he said. Holly could tell that whatever medicine they gave him for sleep had worn off; the droid had probably just wanted peace and quiet.

Holly didn't mind much, though; it had given her an opportunity to give R2 his own assessment, of a sort. Something had happened with the astromech's inner workings that hindered his ability to pick up Xenon's signals. She knew that nothing was wrong with Xenon; if there was, she couldn't do anything about it, anyway. There were no blueprints left for XE units. That left her to ponder over the connection of the beacon—something had to be wrong with the way it was wired.

Though she was physically on Hoth, Holly's mind was elsewhere. Her hands worked mechanically as she pictured whatever Dagobah could look like—as she had never seen the movies, she had no clue, of course. But Yoda was green, wasn't he? Holly supposed that she'd seen a picture of him before….at least once. And for some obscure reason, she remembered part of a Weird Al song: 'A guy who looks like a muppet but he's wrinkled and green, oh, my Yoda.' Clare had never particularly cared for the little Jedi with the backwards way of speaking; she had much preferred the Dark Side of the Force, from what Holly understood of Darth Vader and some 'insidious' man.

Holly remembered seeing something about a green forest. Perhaps that was Dagobah? Yoda may be a tree-dweller, for all she knew. As she worked, Holly's mind came up with many different extravagant planets on which Jedi Masters could live. She kept returning to the image of a Bajor-like planet on which Luke and Holly stood, serenely gazing at a flowing waterfall, and contemplating the Force.

She had to admit: now that she _knew_ that the Force existed (at least to the extent of Luke's word, that is), Holly was rather curious. Who knows; maybe using the Force would be fun.

A small switch on the beacon slipped into place; she had a hunch that this switch controlled the extent of the droid's signal. "Ask him what's going on in the control room, buddy," Holly requested of R2, who beeped in compliance.

She glanced down at the Binary translator (a handheld device that 3PO had given her when it became apparent that she wouldn't be fluent in the droid language any time soon) to read what he had said.

 _Command: Analyzed, fulfilled. XE-742 found, contacted._

 _Response: 01010011 01101111 01101100 01101111 00100111 01110011 00100000 01001101 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01101111 01101110_

 _Translation: Solo's Mission_

So they were overseeing Han's little adventure. Holly had expected that; what she really wanted to know was whether she could get Xenon's signal from a greater distance. "R2, can you tell him to go to the main hangar? The _Falcon_ , let's say."

That was the farthest he could go without actually leaving the base. Both R2 and Xenon complied.

Holly twisted a wire ever so slightly and pulled it out. R2 beeped in distaste. "Sorry," she apologized, before splicing it slowly to another wire. This had him positively shrieking; Holly had to look down to the translator to realize that it meant she was tickling him. "All done. Contact Xenon; let's see if this worked."

Holly closed up R2 and sat back, waiting to see if her change was effective. R2 beeped, but before she could glance down at the translator, Holly remembered that she shouldn't be able to read what it said.

She swore to herself. _Why did I have to think that? Things were going swimmingly, and I had to ruin it._ It was odd; Holly had always been taught to think before she acted, but that was the exact opposite of what she had been trying to do.

Unsurprisingly, she couldn't read the words. She hurled a multimeter across the floor with a frustrated growl. Holly slumped against the wall dejectedly as R2 beeped pityingly. "Oh, never mind. R2, just tell him to stay in the _Falcon_. I'll be there in a minute."

That minute, however, never came; suddenly, an alarm sounded throughout the repair hangar. Holly's head shot up, eyes wide; what was happening?

A voice rang throughout the hangar: " _Imperial ships sighted in perimeter. Prepare for defensive actions._ "

 _Imperials_ , Holly thought to herself. _The Imperials are coming; the Imperials are coming_.

Holly let the translator fall from her hands as she raced to the main hangar.

42.

After dodging groups of swift pilots heading for their ships, Holly arrived at the hangar. She saw the _Millennium Falcon_ , on the far end, with sparks flying out from the top of the ship. "Off! Turn it off! Off!"

"Need help up there?" Holly called. She didn't need to get to the transports immediately; besides, she'd have to ask Luke what their….flight arrangements would be for their trip to Dagobah.

Han Solo crawled to the edge of his ship. "Do you have another Wookiee to man the cockpit? A _competent_ one?"

She shook her head as she started up the ladder. "Sorry, all sold out. What's wrong?"

Han shot her a glance. "You're no mechanic."

"Nope, even better. I'm an engineer. Now tell me, _what's wrong_?" She said this with no small amount of pride.

"Turbine failure," he reported. "Last repair job—they must've completely knocked it out of sync with the compressor. It keeps tripping."

"Han, I'm pretty sure _you_ did the last repair job," she smirked before observing the turbine, pointing. "You see—right here, one of the bolts is worn away. It wasn't tightened enough last time; the parts wore at it. Probably didn't help that you had a gas leak at one point."

"Took care of that," Han muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, is that it? Just the bolt?"

Holly tilted her head. "It shouldn't fall that far out of line just because of one bolt…." She grabbed the small turbine, inspecting the malfunctioning device more closely. "Ah! I see. Your barrier's ruptured. Again, the gas leak."

"We'll have to replace the entire compressor," he groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "You've got to be kidding me. You don't just happen to have a spare compressor lying around, do you?"

Smirking, Holly replied, "I repaired one recently. I just might have it in the other hangar. I'll get back to you before the Imperials ever have a chance to reach the base."

He eyed her warily. "Holly, are you sure you'll be okay? Everyone will need to leave as soon as possible if the defenses fail."

"I'll be fine," she dismissed. She disconnected the broken compressor and stuffed it, as well as the broken bolt, into the pocket of her green jumpsuit before climbing down the ladder and heading for the exit once more.

Holly was very close to the exit when she heard someone call her name. She turned, exasperated, until she saw who had called her.

Luke was off to the right, heading toward her. Holly smiled at the sight of him—he was wearing the orange and white pilot's jumpsuit, and she suddenly thought that it looked rather nice on him. "Hey," he greeted when they came within earshot.

"Going to destroy another space station?" she jested.

He shook his head. "I hope I'll never have to." He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Holly, er, look—where are you headed?" Luke seemed to have just noticed that she wasn't staying heading for the transports.

"Han broke the _Falcon_ again," she pulled out the compressor. "Just have to replace a component, then we can all whiz away."

Luke was shaking his head. "We can't drag Han to Dagobah," he objected. "He's too important to the Rebellion."

"By that logic, you're too important, too," Holly pointed out as she headed for the exit. Luke followed her. "He's only captain; you're commander."

Luke huffed. "Yes, well, I don't have a choice. They can do without a pilot and an engineer for a little while. Look, if our defense is ineffective—you can't wait for me to return. They'll flood the place before I ever have the chance to."

A few people shot the two of them bizarre looks—why was Luke heading _away_ from the hangar, accompanied by that engineer whom everyone recognized but couldn't name? Holly and Luke ignored their questioning glances. The latter said, "We're going to have to regroup after the evacuation—if it happens. I hope it isn't necessary, but we've got to prepare for the worst case scenario. Still, I can't ask a transport to veer off course so we can rendezvous; the squadron won't let me leave if they see me…."

"I'll go on the _Falcon_ ," Holly finished. "Han wouldn't be going with the rest of the fleet—he's going to pay off some three-year-overdo debt, I think. So it wouldn't be too much trouble; Han'll do it. We can rendezvous, if we have to." It was weird to talk about something as severe as this in the same manner as one would discuss a shopping trip.

Luke seemed to consider this. "If anything happens," he took on a serious expression. "If they get to the base before everyone can leave—don't bother waiting. Get on whichever ship's closest, do you understand?"

Holly nodded. "Of course."

She didn't like the possibility of not meeting with Luke. What would happen then? Han wouldn't be there, if she had to get on a transport, and neither would Luke. R2 and 3PO would keep her company, but the only other _human_ that she knew would be Leia and….well, she and Leia still wouldn't be on the best of terms.

Being lonely wouldn't be the problem. What really mattered was that she would be without the people on whom she depended—and, though she loathed to admit this, Holly depended on Luke a great deal. _He_ was lucky; everything that Holly struggled with, Luke could do perfectly. He could answer every question she had (well, at least he _tried_ to.), and he could use the _Force,_ for Shatner's sake! "I just hope it doesn't come to that."

"Just—keep yourself safe," he implored.

Holly gave a small smile. "Keep _myself_ safe? You're the one who's always flying into the thick of battle."

Luke pulled her into a warm embrace. "I come back every time, don't I? Just make sure to be there when I get back this time."

"If you guys win, everyone will be right here, waiting for you. And if not….well, I guess we'll all be on the _Falcon_ again. For a bit, at least. It'd be just like old times, wouldn't it?" She had no doubt in her voice that they would meet on the ship—Holly knew that Luke would make it back. "But only if I hurry up and get that new compressor, alright?"

Luke backed away and nodded in agreement. Holly held his gaze only for a moment, a smile still on her lips, before she stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Good hunting."

She turned and headed for the maintenance hangar, not seeing the blush that betrayed Luke's embarrassment, or its accompanying sheepish smile.

42.

New compressor in hand, Holly climbed up the ladder to the _Falcon_. People were becoming anxious, which was rather distracting, but Han dealt with anyone rushing up to the _Falcon_ in confusion—Holly couldn't count the amount of times she'd heard Han give the brief explanation of the situation to a lowly uninformed mechanic.

Tightening the last bolt, Holly scoffed humorously. _Here I am, skills worthy of a third year engineering student, and they have me doing lowly technician's work. Call that job satisfaction? 'Cause I don't._ She didn't have anything against the technicians, but she felt the need to lighten their urgent situation.

Holly thought of Luke as she finished the repair job. She had a real reason for kissing him on the cheek, a reason _other_ than the usual—at least, that's what she tried to convince herself into believing. And she did a pretty good job of believing it. And her reason was this:

Luke could not be allowed to fancy his sister. Holly sounded a bit dictatorial when she thought this, but it was true; Holly didn't feel right when she thought of any future in which they would develop….extra-familial feelings towards one another. Luke and Leia would find out anyway that they were related (if they didn't, how would Holly know in the first place?) and Holly thought that she was saving them from any further embarrassment. So, to ensure that Luke didn't fall for his sister, he needed a distraction.

For a brief moment when Holly was trying to fix R2, she had considered asking Yvonne to be the distraction. However, she feared that the woman in question may actually take to Luke—and like Holly said before, nobody should kiss Luke (besides her, _apparently_ , but that was a kiss on the cheek, so it didn't really count). Holly also dismissed that possibility because she would feel terrible for manipulating her friend and her roommate into a relationship.

It made her slightly guilty, yes, but the prospect of Luke _not_ kissing his sister again gave her immense satisfaction. So, Holly herself would have to be the distraction. Nothing more; she didn't want to replace what Leia _could_ have been—whatever that may be. She wasn't a seductress. Maybe, though, she could imply having feelings for him to keep his mind off of Leia.

As Holly checked over her work for the last time, she thought back to that wretched kiss. Honestly, Holly had high opinions of Leia (at least, she _used_ to), and she supposed that the princess using someone for her own advantage (making Han jealous) wasn't exactly out of character for her.

She deemed the ship space-worthy again and replaced an outer panel, still deep in thought. There was another feeling—something in the pit of her stomach that wasn't related to the fact that the two were brother and sister.

Holly looked to Xenon, who had finally parted from Chewie and joined her atop the _Falcon_. "Do you reckon that's what jealously feels like?" she asked herself aloud. Xenon clicked an affirmative, though she was sure he didn't know what she was talking about.

Maybe she wasn't _just_ manipulating him. Holly didn't like the thought of leading him on just so he wouldn't fall for Leia….What if, by vowing that she'd _only_ serve as a distraction, she led herself on?

Despite the fervent shaking of her head as she descended the ladder, the little part of Holly that just _couldn't_ be like the rest of her managed to speak out: She wouldn't be leading him on because she actually _did_ like him in a most unfamiliar way.

Had her friendship with him grown into a crush? Maybe that whole, slightly far-fetched excuse for kissing him on the cheek wasn't really worth it. After all, was the guilt of manipulation better than just accepting the truth?

Holly sighed as her feet touched the solid platform. _Oh, dear._

42.

And so you have it-after twenty-one chapters, one hundred and thirty-plus words, and a number of excuses promising that it will happen 'eventually,' the other genre is finally coming into play! A tiny bit.

A big thank you to everyone who's taken the time to review:

bb4ever1000: Glad you're staying interested! I'd honestly have lost interest in this story months ago, if I were a reader...I hate waiting for updates. Thank you for sticking with it, though!

jinglepinglepie: I hope it lived up to your expectations-I'd have probably said something similar to you, but alas, I think Holly has just a _little_ bit more restraint.

TheFrenchGuest: Thank you! And see, I'm updating on time, for once!

Rebel Nobody: I really appreciate your review. I get a kick out of writing this, no matter how whimsical it is, and I'm glad others enjoy reading it! I always thought Han's last name was ironic, because he's always with Chewie, so he's not exactly _Solo_ , either. I guess it's just really easy to make jokes about Star Wars names...

DisneyOUATgirl1437: It isn't easy being in the same rebellion with two siblings who keep kissing each other, and I think Holly knows that by now...Thank you for reviewing!

EGGS: Patience, young Padawan...but you don't have long to wait. To be honest, I've never been a huge fan of DC, but I do like Marvel. My favorite superhero has always been Spider-Man...and I like the whole cast of characters in Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D., even if it's just a spin-off series. Thanks for dropping by!

myharlequinromance321: Not that it's exactly a 'conversation'...but she did high-tail it. Those 'incestuous beans' haven't been spilled. Yet. (I get what you mean-it's one downside to the Original Trilogy, and totally cringe-worthy to write). Glad you liked it!

Sardhrantor: I can't _believe_ you think Leia's line is even better than "I don't like sand." (Just kidding, of course.) And indeed, I cringed when I wrote that...But it's a major plot point, so I couldn't ignore it, no matter how much I wish it didn't happen. And thank you for spotting all of my ridiculous typos and errors! Now, if only my spell-checker were as good as you...

ShinigamiConnections: When I started writing this, I expected a _very_ small audience, and I didn't plan on it actually going anywhere...so I do understand your hesitation. I'm glad you decided to give it a shot, though, and that you actually enjoy it!

Stay tuned for the next installation!


	23. Chapter 23

So. I've been planning this chapter for a while, and I'm curious to see what you make of it. Let me just say it guides the plot into a new direction...

42.

"Take more care of your _Falcon_ in the future, huh?" Holly requested. She leaned against the ladder, which was probably not the best idea, but it was at least better than Han's precarious position near the edge of the ship, leaning over and inspecting its basic functions.

Han scoffed. "Why bother if you're always there to tell me what to do and how to do it all the time?" he said. Holly knew, though, that he wasn't _really_ mad that she could fix his own ship and he couldn't….yet, he was Han Solo, so she should probably be careful regardless.

"I don't _tell_ you what to do; I actually do it," she amended. So much for being careful. Oh, well; the two of them had gone through that I-don't-yet-know-you-so-I'll-be-as-irritating-as-possible phase already. They had fallen into a comfortable friendship in which they both picked at each other like siblings (thankfully, though, not like the Skywalker siblings).

"Yeah, well, I'd better hope you've rubbed off on me, then," he sauntered over to stand directly above her. "Look, you're getting on the transports, aren't you?" He seemed as though he were trying very hard to remain stoic.

"We're not getting a repeat of last time, are we?" Holly asked, referencing the events preceding the Battle of Yavin. "We don't need you getting all emotional on us," she teased. "And anyhow, there's no guarantee that we'll even _need_ to."

"Always expect the worst case scenario, so you're not disappointed," he gave her a small smirk. "And there's no chance of you tagging along this time, either." His tone was laced with no small amount of regret.

"Don't be so somber," she tried to focus on the positive side of things. In actuality, though, she'd miss him quite a bit. "It's not as though we'll never see each other again."

He looked off to the side. "I don't know; the galaxy is a big place."

She nodded. "You're wrong about something, though. I'm not getting on the transports."

"Well, I hope you won't stay here. If they attack, obviously."

"No, certainly not," she stepped up a couple of rungs on the ladder and laid her hands on the ship's plating. "I'm following Luke to Dagobah."

"Dagobah?" Han asked. The word slid awkwardly off of his tongue. " _Dagobah_. What's Dagobah? I've never heard of the place."

"Neither had I," Holly responded. Han shot her a look that said, _Well, isn't_ that _surprising!_ "Luke said that he has to go there to train with an old Jedi Master. And he _says_ he wants me there because he thinks I can use the Force. Most likely, though, he's afraid he'll get bored."

Han considered her thoughtfully. "Huh." His brows furrowed and he asked, "So you really do believe that stuff, huh?"

"I do. As odd as it seemed….as odd as it _still_ seems, I believe it. As much as I can without _seeing_ it or _using_ it."

He nodded as though in acceptance. "As long as you actually do believe it," he said. "Luke shouldn't drag you into something if you didn't think it was even real." He leapt onto the ladder, causing it to sway dangerously. Holly planted her feet on the ground and steadied it as he climbed down. "Why do you think Leia kissed Luke?" Han asked randomly, though Holly could tell he had been dying to ask about it. "You don't think she…. _likes_ him, do you?"

"God, I hope not," she said. Besides the fact that they were siblings….even if they weren't, or even if Holly didn't know that they were related, it would still bother her. Not only because Holly had a crush on Luke (something that she didn't like saying, even if silently), but also because of how Han obviously felt towards Leia. "I may respect the princess, but I'm not sure if I'll ever _like_ her, especially since she kisses people just to get others jealous."

Han shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "I _do_ like her; that's the problem." He was free to admit it to her. She fixed him with a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. Han, being a person and doing sentimental person-ly things, hugged her. "You two really need to stay out of trouble. We know he's a magnet for it. Good luck."

Holly snickered and pushed away. "Come on, I'm not leaving _yet_. Luke has to go do….I dunno, squadron leader fighting. You know. I'm going stay here and wait for him—unless they fail, of course. In that case, I'll hitch a ride with you 'til we can meet up, then I'll be out of your hair."

He looked at her for a brief moment, then glanced around. "Well, everyone here is staying back, fighting, if push comes to shove," he reported. "Everyone else will rush to the transports the second they sound the alarm—just make sure you're not left behind."

"Certainly," Holly said.

42.

Holly didn't know what Han was doing, but it must've had something to do with the command center. Everyone Holly considered a friend had close connections to the high powers of the base—heck, they basically _were_ the high powers.

Holly certainly had friends in high places. She sniggered. If she was so well connected, why wasn't she getting paid?

Not that she particularly _cared_ that she wasn't getting paid...but Holly knew so many people who would just quit working because they weren't earning money. Holly had no use for it—and anyhow, the base in which she worked was a place to live. She got shelter, food, water, everything—that was payment enough for her. Holly didn't care about bonuses or _life insurance_ : for one thing, when had Holly ever risked her life since she 'joined' the Alliance? Secondly, she didn't have any family who would benefit from said insurance. As for any other type of insurance, Holly was pretty sure the Rebellion had difficulty finding an organization that was undermining the government.

She sat in the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_. The seats here were more comfortable than in the central communal room—Han probably never used them, so why would he bother making them nice?

She wouldn't go near Chewie's seat—he might get mad. And a Wookiee getting mad, well...that can't be good. So she sat in Han's, lounging as though she'd done nothing else in her life.

Loud voices spoke over the public announcers. They signaled for evacuation to commence— " _All hands report to transports. Imperials have breached Echo Base shields. Prepare for immediate departure._ "

Around the ship, she heard deep rumblings. They were from outside the base—where the battle was raging. She wouldn't lie to herself and say that it didn't scare her, but the _Falcon_ did give her a sense of security. It was like being in a fallout shelter when nukes were falling from the sky all around them: Holly knew that there was a chance they'd die anyway, but she was at least safer than being in the thick of it.

Holly considered standing near the transports, just in case Han didn't return in time to take off. She dismissed that, however, when she realized that Han would _never_ leave without his precious _Millennium Falcon_. Holly being inside it was just an added bonus.

Her mind wandered to Luke. He was flying out there, right in the thick of it. Was she worried for him? Of course. How could she not be? Even if she didn't...er, _like_ him, he was still her friend; if it were Han instead, for example, she'd be worried. Or 3PO, for that matter!

Oh, who was she kidding? 3PO could walk through a corridor of laser blasts and come out unscathed. She didn't need to worry about him.

But the problem was, Holly _did_ have a stupid schoolgirl crush on Luke. It was absolutely ridiculous; they were both fighting a war (well, one was fighting, and the other was just hanging around backstage). Neither had time for...romance. Holly didn't even like the word. _Romance_ was cheesy, overrated. Distracting and bothersome.

Though, the conductor of that Flying Circus seemed to think that a romance with Luke would change her opinion of the matter.

" _Holly? Holly, are you there?_ Please _help me—I don't know what to do. Can you hear me?_ "

Holly jumped out of the seat in surprise. The voice was familiar—Yvonne's. It was panicked—like Holly had never heard before. The voice of someone desperate, crying out in despair. She was not only surprised to hear it, but also to here the sheer out-of-character desperation lacing it. But _where_ was it coming from?

"Yvonne?" Then it hit her. Yvonne wasn't in the _Falcon;_ she knew that. The voice sounded as though it were transmitted through a radio. "Oh, the communicator!"

Holly fumbled at her belt and unclipped the communicator. She'd forgotten that she even had it—Kip Russel had only given it to her so he could tell her to fetch equipment from storage units across the base. Never did she think that anyone would try to contact her—especially not when there was an _emergency_.

Now, which button did she press to speak into it? Oh, yeah, that one. "Yvonne, it's Holly. What's wrong?"

A sob made its way through the signal to her. " _Oh, thank you. You've got to help me! I don't know what's going on and I'm blocked in and I can hear people coming—_ "

Holly cut her off. "Yvonne. Listen, we're under attack. You're blocked in? Where are you?"

" _Southwest passage. There was a cave-in and I can't go back—but I don't know what's ahead and S'Yana's already on the transport. She said I should signal you because you weren't there! And there's blaster fire and I'm so scared….Holly, please help me,_ " begged the distressed voice.

Holly jumped out of the cockpit and raced towards the exit. She passed Xenon on her way out, who looked at her oddly but didn't follow. As she looked around the main hangar for the exit to southwest passage, she brought the communicator up to her mouth. "Yvonne, you've got to talk quietly. You're hearing the Rebels and the Stormtroopers. Do you have anywhere to hide?"

" _No! Well, maybe….I don't know how much they can see! I'm so scared because I might be out in the open. Are you coming? Do you know the way out?_ "

Though she was risking her life, Holly made her way to the southwest passage. She passed the armory, and an idea came to her. It was stupid rushing in to save Yvonne anyway—why do it unarmed?

She grabbed the closest gun to her and raced down the corridor. It didn't matter to her which gun she grabbed because she didn't know the difference between any of the models—no matter how many times Han had tried to enforce in her the importance of having a good blaster. "I'm coming, Yvonne. Just stay put, okay?"

Though Holy couldn't exactly hear it, she knew that Yvonne had nodded.

As she hurried through the hallways, the banging got louder. She could hear what Yvonne meant: in the distance, echoing off of the ice-covered walls, came the sound of shots being fired. It was odd to hear it like this: the laser blasts sounded like they should be from an old episode of _Flash Gordon_ , and it was really odd not to hear epic theme music along with it.

42.

The command center was in no better shape than the rest of the base, for it too fell victim to the assault of the enemy ships. Leia was bothered by this, of course, but she did not show it; being a princess, she knew when to show emotion and when to remain stoic. Now, a time of panic and distress, was not when one in command should show vulnerability. She studiously monitored the display screens with an expression that was severe but otherwise void of emotion.

A rather loud banging reached their alert ears. Leia fought not to flinch—in reality, she was scared out of her wits. However, she overcame this minor difficulty. Though there were only a few men still at their posts, she still had to keep up her reputation.

The cave-in that followed nearly took all of their lives; Leia, with wide eyes, watched the ice tumble down. 3PO, beside her, muttered worriedly. "Ma'am, we must get to the last transport, or else they shall leave without us."

"We'll get there," she bit out.

New footsteps approached them. "Are you all right?"

The voice belonged to Han Solo. Leia turned to him and nodded, her irritation clear in her gaze. "Why are you still here?"

"I heard the command center had been hit," he answered.

Leia responded irascibly, "You got your clearance to leave." He shouldn't be here. Han was the sort of man to either flee at the first sign of trouble or, rather contradictorily, dive into it head-first. Leia personally had hoped he'd choose the former in this situation, but she was not in luck this day.

Han must've known this. "Don't worry. I'll leave. First, I'm going to get you to your ship."

She turned to 3PO—why, Leia wasn't quite sure. He certainly couldn't aid her argument. Indeed, he sided with Solo: "Your Highness, we must take this last transport. It's our only hope."

Leia was going to argue, but her sense of self-preservation kicked in, and she conceded. "Send all troops in sector twelve to the south slope to protect the fighters." If she was going to leave, at least she could take a few last measures to protect the Rebels.

The next blast tangibly shook the command center—Leia had the foresight to grip the console. Unluckily for both parties involved, however, 3PO was thrown off-balance, wobbling into Han, who stabilized him quickly with a fractious glare.

"Imperial troops have entered the base!" announced a soldier over the loudspeaker.

"Come on," Han urged the princess. "That's it."

Leia sighed exasperatedly and turned to an officer manning his post. "Give the evacuation code signal! And get to your transports!"

Han whisked her away—quite literally—and rushed her from the command center, followed by 3PO, who just tried to keep up.

The corridors of crumbling ice were shrinking drastically as Echo Base barely withstood the Imperial assault. Han and Leia hurried to the transport, only to have their sole path was barricaded by a massive cave-in. 3PO gasped in horror, as the three of them had nearly been crushed by the falling ice.

Han shouted into the comlink, "Transport, this is Solo. Better take off—I can't get to you. I'll get the princess out on the _Falcon_."

They turned around and began running the other way, leaving a flustered 3PO lagging behind. As they raced down the corridor, Leia demanded, "Where will you take me? We'll regroup with the rest of the fleet, right?"

"I don't know yet," he gritted out as he shoved aside a large block of ice. "I've got Holly there already—I guess we'll decide what'll happen once we get past the Empire's ships."

Leia, who had always been a structured woman, did not like this lack of a concrete plan. But, she knew it was the only way, so she kept her mouth shut.

42.

" _Holly,_ please _hurry up! It's starting to cave in again!_ "

"I'm almost there, Yvonne, trust me," she assured, though she wasn't even sure herself.

It was also rather strange for someone to call upon _Holly_ for help. Almost as though Yvonne had said, 'Help me, Holly O'Reilly. You're my only hope.' Having all of this responsibility all of the sudden—it was unsettling. Earlier, she had mainly been in charge of keeping _herself_ alive. Now, though, another human being depended on her for their continued existence?

Holly really hoped she wouldn't let her roommate down.

In all honesty, Holly didn't know if she'd do the same thing, were she in Yvonne's situation. She didn't know if she'd call on one of her friends for help, not because she would question their reliability, but because she couldn't imagine them putting their lives on the line for her—it was hard to picture people being so selfless in 'real life.'

But it would be hard to just let someone die, Holly knew. And she didn't blame Yvonne in the slightest for asking Holly to risk her life—the woman was just trying to survive. People would almost do anything to stay alive, if they really wanted to. Holly couldn't, in good conscience, leave her to fend on her own when she was obviously distressed and not thinking straight. It didn't matter that Holly didn't particularly _like_ Yvonne—she was still another human being.

Holly surprised herself with this sudden and unexpected selflessness.

Just before she was about to turn one corner, a huge blast echoed in her ears. Holly staggered back, eyes wide, as men barked orders. They weren't Rebel voices.

Holly tightened her grip on the blaster and flicked off the safety with her thumb. She knew that her hands were shaking without even looking down. As she backed away, preparing for the enemy men to round the corner, she raised the blaster to eye level and prepared for the worst.

She reached an alcove before anyone could get to her, however. Pressing her body against the chilling ice, Holly heard the booted Stormtroopers rush past the corner, not even bothering to turn and glance down that corridor. The footsteps faded, and Holly figured that it was probably better _not_ to wait until they decided to come back.

Holly rushed through the remaining corridors quickly but warily. The base was crumbling, letting the snowy winds from outside through into the interior, but she didn't have time to wish she'd bothered to throw on her parka. Up ahead, she saw ice cracking, threatening to come down upon her.

The southwest passage was only a few yards away—she could make it, if she ran. The cracking grew, as did Holly's speed. She threw herself into the wide passage right before huge boulders of ice came rushing down.

Holly paused a moment to look ahead. The passage had all but crumbled, with large rocks of ice littering the ground—it was almost as though a maze were being created, simply urging Holly to venture between the rocks so that what remained of the ceiling could trap her completely.

"Yvonne?" she called through the communicator. How far into the passage could Yvonne be? "Can you hear me? I'm in the south passage. Are you trapped?"

" _I can get out_ ," she spoke. To Holly, it sounded like she was pulling herself together " _But I don't know what's beyond the rocks. They're blocking my view_."

Holly sighed. "I'm on the other side of the rocks. Can you hear me without the communicator?"

" _I think so_ ," Yvonne reported.

Holly took a deep breath before beginning to navigate through the crumbling ice. She continually shot glances over her shoulder to make sure nobody was sneaking up behind her, though it probably looked as though she had a rather bad twitch. Holly called out periodically, using her voice to locate Yvonne.

Finally, Holly found her, huddled in between two chunks of ice and shivering harshly. The tears that had run down her cheeks were nearly frozen, and her usually calm and beautiful face was red and blotchy. "Yvonne, I'm here," Holly reached out to touch her shoulder comfortingly. "We really need to hurry and get to the ship—we need to get out of here before they completely destroy the base."

Holly didn't know if they really planned to destroy Echo Base, but they certainly planned on killing every Rebel in it, which was just as bad. "You're not hurt, are you? Did any ice land on you?"

Yvonne flinched as she stood up, and Holly noticed that she favored her left side. "I probably sprained an ankle," she told Holly. "But I can walk." Her voice was still high and nervous, but Holly concluded that she had calmed down greatly at the sight of a fellow rebel.

"Good," Holly said.

Together, the two of them inched their way through the ice. Yvonne had her arm draped over Holly's shoulder for support, but Holly still took the lead, because she was the one with the blaster.

Once they exited the maze, they could walk along more quickly. The cave-in had blocked Holly from leading them the way she had come, and it also changed the scenery so much that she had to concentrate very hard to remember an alternate route to the main hangar.

"You don't think the transports have left already, do you?" Yvonne asked in a loud, worried voice.

Holly held a finger to her lips. "Whisper," she said very quietly. "But it doesn't matter if the transports have left—I'm leaving with Solo on the _Falcon_. We'll regroup with the rest of them once we're out of the battlefield."

Again, Holly wasn't sure that this was the plan, but it wouldn't be too hard to convince Han to comply.

"Thank you so much for helping me," Yvonne gritted out. Holly shot her a glance that warned her to keep quiet, but she continued on. "I know too many people who wouldn't do the same."

Though Holly appreciated the sentiment, she didn't reply aloud; the corridor in front of them curved, and Holly heard other voices. She halted, pressing the two of them against a wall. She tried not to rush; as long as she didn't take _too_ long, the _Falcon_ wouldn't leave without them. Han must notice that she wasn't aboard, right?

Raising the blaster, Holly tried to remain as still as possible, though she wasn't sure that it would help them—they were in plain sight. And besides, Yvonne was shivering with fear and lack of heat, so any efforts Holly made were rendered useless.

A blast and a sharp, sudden yell reached their ears. Holly couldn't tell which came first. Immediately afterwards, a body fell back and into their line of sight—a body wearing a rebel uniform.

A figure came into view—tall and white, it was definitely a Stormtrooper. However, it was dressed differently, with thicker armor, and a white rag covering the lower half of his helmet, the standard uniform for such uninhabitable climates as that of Hoth. He held a large black blaster, aimed right at them. Holly's eyes locked onto the black lenses of his mask, on the face of that conformed soldier.

Holly's heart rate quickened, and she was sure that she felt the pulsing of blood even through her ears. The sound of the two shots fired were accompanied by the frantic beating of her heart.

Her shot, fired blindly only in the general direction of the trooper, flung the man back, and he slumped into the wall. However, at the same time, Holly felt Yvonne stiffen behind her, right before she crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Holly's heart abruptly stopped. She fell to her knees beside Yvonne, whose face was frozen in an expression of immense fear. "Yvonne?! _Yvonne!_ " Holly shouted and shook her shoulders, repeating her name. The blaster had dropped to the floor, though Holly didn't necessarily remember letting go of it.

The angry red blast had burnt a hole through all three layers of Yvonne's clothing, blackening the skin around the open red wound that it caused. Though Holly's stomach clenched at the sight, she pressed her hands to Yvonne's chest as though to stop the bleeding.

But there wasn't any bleeding—of course, because the wound was cauterized. But not only was there no bleeding, Yvonne's chest did not rise or fall either. She'd stopped breathing.

Holly's hands shook as she raised them from Yvonne's corpse. "N-no!" she shouted in a strangled voice as the blood rushed from her face. "Yvonne, come on! You-you've got to get up! Get to the ship! It'll leave without us!"

As expected, there was no response. Holly stood shakily, backing away in horror. She was dead. Yvonne was _dead_. She'd relied on Holly to rescue her, to lead her to safety….and Holly had let her die.

She turned to the Stormtrooper slumped against the ice. She didn't know where she'd hit him, only that she had hit. Holly walked towards him very slowly. Her yell was mingled with a cry as she kicked him, hard, in the abdomen. It was a pathetic revenge, but a revenge nonetheless.

Or so she thought. In her rage, Holly had not noticed that the man was still breathing. Nor did she notice that his blaster was still held tightly in his gloved hand—until it as too late, that is. She _certainly_ noticed all of those things when, with labored breath, the trooper raised that evil blaster and pointed it straight at her face.

Holly wasn't quite sure if she noticed him pull the trigger.

42.

THE END.

Just kidding, of course. Or am I? I guess you'll just have to find out...next week!

THANK you all for the support you've provided so far, with reviews, follows and favorites.

To those who shared their thoughts on the last chapter:

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: Nice to see you again! I'm glad you bother to review at all, so don't apologize for being late! About the question, well, I've been sworn to secrecy by the League of Anti-Spoilers not to reveal any events before they're published...but you'll find out soon enough!

jinglepinglepie: The story does what it wants to-but your pleas have been heard and considered. Unfortunately, I can't say much more without giving something away...Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

Sardhrantor: As always, thank you for the grammar check! I'm sure you'll see more in this chapter too. And come _on_ , how can you not LOVE the beautiful symbolism and imagery compacted beautifully into the four words that are "I don't like sand?" (Note the heavily implied sarcasm.) Ha, I couldn't help myself. The line's just too easy to make fun of.

Gigira: At least there's more to read in one time if you're late to the updates; its the beauty of completed stories. Nonetheless, I'm really glad you found the med bay scene so funny-I was torn between cringing and laughing when writing it, so I empathize with you. And indeed, Holly's location may change a few things...or it may not. It's all there to throw you off my trail. I hope you like where I go with it, though, even if it doesn't seem to promising right now!

TheFrenchGuest: The compressor may play a minor role in future...maybe. I'm juggling a few options and I guess I wanted it as insurance, so to speak. But I don't think my plan is exactly like your prediction...either way, thanks for sharing your speculation!

EGGS: Natalie Portman is very pretty. Me, I've been told I look like my mother. (Who'd have guessed?) But on the note of psychopaths, I do tend to prefer sociopaths, personally.

bb4ever1000: Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long! I hope you like this chapter too!

Smile Back: Thank you! I'll _really_ try not to make you wait twenty more chapters :)

Missinde: (if you make it this far) Hopefully, you like what I've done with the character of Han...their dynamic has changed, but hopefully not unbelievably so.

Missanonne: I hope I'll manage to surprise you with where she goes. It may be Dagobah, or some other completely and improbably random location in the universe...Only time and an internet connection will tell.

Drop in next week for the next installment!


	24. Chapter 24

Hello! I know I ended that last chapter with a cruel cliffhanger, but I can't honestly say I'm sorry. I am sorry, though, that I probably won't update as frequently; the pre-written chapters have pretty much run out by now, and I've only got fragments of future chapters left. School's started again, and this is something I can only do in my _copious_ free time, so don't be surprised when the frequency of chapters slows.

But on a better note, you've still got a new chapter! Happy reading!

Chapter 24:

Holly wasn't quite sure if she noticed him pull the trigger. In retrospect, she could firmly say that _yes,_ a shot had been fired, and it most certainly had been fired at her. The bright red bolt of energy never reached her, however, as she raised her arms up in a defensive measure. Of course, under any normal circumstances, that move should never have been particularly effective.

But this situation _wasn't_ normal, regardless of which galaxy she was it.

Holly did feel something when the blast should have hit her, but it wasn't the bast, or something coming toward her; rather, she felt something leaving. Though it wasn't exactly leaving, either—expanding. An overbearing presence—like water behind a broken dam. Holly could tell by the heat that the blast had been coming her way, and it would have definitely hit its mark were it not for that rushing water.

Was that the Force?

Suddenly, there _was_ an external force, and this time, it was acting upon her.

Her body crumpled against the wall, much like the Stormtrooper's had moments previously. She felt the sharp spike of pain as her head connected with the ice, making her vision fluctuate from so bright that she was forced to squint to so dark that Holly could hardly make out shapes.

Though her ears were ringing and her eyesight failed her dismally, there was no denying the person standing before her. If it was a person, after all.

Darth Vader was calm. Granted, there would be no way of knowing if he was anything _but_ completely calm and collected, but that knowledge did not abate the sheer immensity of his presence.

He held one black arm up, extended outward. The palm facing out, it seemed as though he had used his own hand to block the blaster bolt intended for Holly. Indeed, the wall beside the Stormtrooper was crumbling quickly, as though someone had planted a bomb right beside it. However, Holly knew that Vader hadn't caused it—and he was probably as surprised as she was.

"You were given express orders to keep this rebel alive. You have failed me."

That raised hand slowly twisted into an open fist, as though he were holding an invisible object out in front of him. The fingers slowly closed together, and Holly could barely catch the sound choking over the constant ring that resided in her head.

Holly's eyes closed, despite her reluctance, as her eyes and ears were filled with an overload of sensory data that completely engulfed her. Her mind slipped into a state of dark, static unconsciousness.

42.

Vader stood, arms crossed over his chest, as he considered the downed rebel. She lay pitifully on the ground, not having the willpower to hold onto her petty consciousness. That should have been telling enough to him—yet he still prodded her mind, reaching out to the Force to feel the strength of her connection, and found a flimsy, transparent wall stopping him from tearing her mind apart.

This little _girl_ was no threat to him. Vader had correctly concluded that the moment he laid eyes on her. It did not matter if she were clever enough to outsmart him—she probably wasn't, but it wouldn't amount to anything if she were. He was powerful enough to rip any plan she was formulating to bits and exploit it for his own advantage. He was a Sith Lord, after all.

No; she wasn't in his way. He could very well leave her here—on the off chance that she escaped his Stormtroopers, she couldn't provide any hindrance whatsoever. The only reason he refrained from igniting his lightsaber and holding it to her delicate throat right now was the possibility that she could be of use to him. And, of course, his master may have a plan for her.

She was no Skywalker. Skywalker was a nuisance. He was an irritating gnat on the skin of the Empire—something that bothered the living Force out of you, yes, but it didn't _kill_ you. Not usually, at least; if that particular gnat happened to be a harbinger of a disease, it could set in action a plan that could take down the Empire as it stands.

And Vader would make sure that, if Skywalker did have the ability to crumble the Galactic Empire, he would never get the chance to do it.

But she….she didn't even amount to a nuisance. Her display mere moments before did not show promise in Jedi or Sith practices; it merely showed that she was a Force-sensitive being. Nearly everything was, to a certain extent. But there was a fine line setting useful capability apart from any promising skill; what he saw was only the proof of human desperation, and what it could do to the body. And Jedi training, Vader knew, would negate that desperation, and without that driving force, her minor ability would be void.

Yet, it was not true that one was only as useful as their Force ability.

 _Master, what of the friend of Skywalker?_

His fingers hovered near his lightsaber. Vader was only the apprentice, as much as he was loath to admit this, and he awaited his master's response. Though he may think that the girl could be useful, the Lord of the Sith under whom Darth Vader studied was the only one who could truly make that call—if he said the word, Vader would surely act as his extended hand to execute every order he was given.

Beneath his mask, Vader's lips pulled into the closest thing to a smirk his charred face could achieve when his master answered him.

42.

Two Stormtroopers strode down the corridor, ready to blast any living rebel in sight. Vader held up a hand, which was not meant to harm, but the two men halted as though it would. "Take this scum to the _Executor_ holding cells," he ordered. "Maximum security."

The two of them eyed the girl with confusion. Blood was seeping from the wound on her head, pouring onto the frozen ground. If she wasn't dead now, she would certainly pass soon; why did the Sith Lord wish to keep _corpse_ in a holding cell? Furthermore, why waste extra guards on keeping her in the said cell when she was undoubtedly never to move of her own free will again?

"Now!" Vader barked. The Stormtroopers hastened to comply.

42.

Luke broke through the atmosphere, his eyes landing on the vast expanse of space ahead of him. Even through the layer of glass that protected him in his X-Wing from the overbearing _nothing_ that waited beyond, the sight was of much more majesty than any view one could have on land.

"R2," Luke requested into the comlink. "Report on Xenon's location. Is he on the _Falcon_?"

Holly wouldn't dare part from Xenon when the base was under attack; Luke knew that the droid was much too precious to her. Sometimes, he got the impression that the mechanical bug mattered more to her than her actual friends did, but usually, he dismissed the possibility of being jealous of a spider.

After all, she didn't give _droids_ kisses on the cheek.

He glanced down at the built-in translator on the panel. Like Holly, Luke had never actually learned Binary. There was no need, when it could be translated for him instantaneously.

"Good," he replied. "She got on. Can you tell me what their course is? Are they regrouping with the others?"

He had to wait longer for this response. That let the anxiety build up inside him; where was the _Falcon_ going? They should be in the vicinity of the fleet, at least, even if they weren't exactly _with_ them. If the ship veered off the predetermined course, that meant that some complication had arisen. Any number of things may have happened, but the most likely instance was a chase by Imperials.

The fact that Han was piloting her brought a slight comfort to him—he could get them out of any tight situation. His flying was reckless and dangerous, but when it mattered, Han Solo could keep his friends safe.

The translator glowed blue with R2's response. The period of time it took for R2 to track their movements should have already told him, but this solidified it: they were being pursued.

Luke visibly deflated with this news. R2 informed him that they were flying farther and farther away—he wouldn't be able to rendezvous with them at the rate they were going.

He breathed out sharply through his nose in disappointment. It wasn't Holly's fault; he shouldn't be angry with her. And he wasn't, not really. His hands clenched around the controls, though, for he _was_ angry with himself. If he hadn't been so arrogant as to assume that his squadron would ward off the Imperials before they could reach the base, maybe they could have worked out a more stable plan. If he had just stopped her from skipping away when she kissed his cheek—

Did she skip? He couldn't remember. All he recalled from that memory was the rising blush on his neck and ears, how he failed in the struggle to keep the smile off his face. It was _only_ a kiss on the cheek. Of course she didn't mean anything by it.

Luke shook his head. He needed to focus on flying. "R2, did you check with Xenon that Holly's there? She and Xenon didn't get separated, did they? Is there any chance that she'd be with the fleet?"

The droid's response was too quick to have any real information. _The_ Millennium Falcon _has flown out of range. Connection with XE-742 has been lost._

Luke groaned. He raised one hand from the console and ran it through his hair in frustration. There was no way of knowing anything—Holly was, most likely, onboard the _Falcon_. Han wouldn't leave if he knew that she wasn't either on a transport or on his ship, so she wasn't left behind.

Nothing more could be done now. Not until he knew more. Glancing thoughtfully at the console, he flipped a few switches, changing course.

The monitor screen flickered, displaying a worried question from R2. _Is there a systems malfunction hindering our return to the others?_

"There's nothing wrong, R2," Luke told him. In truth, everything was wrong; however, it was nothing that R2 concerned himself with. "I'm just setting a new course."

The droid fired off another question. Luke liked his decision just as much as R2 seemed to—he considered just ignoring the astromech's questions with the excuse that it wasn't safe flying, to keep staring at the monitor, but it was a weak excuse.

"We're not going to regroup with the others."

That didn't sit well with the droid. He protested once more, perhaps wondering if his master had finally gone insane. "We're going to the Dagobah System."

R2 was quiet for a moment. Luke wondered if he had finally given up—he wasn't going to change course, no matter what R2 complained, though it didn't seem that the droid was finished making his case yet. "Yes, R2?"

The next words were laced with deceit. It was a rather clever trick for the droid to control, yes, but Luke was cleverer. _It may be a flight hazard to manually pilot the ship so recently after a major battle. Perhaps switching to autopilot will allow you to rest._

Luke made himself chuckle. "That's all right. I'd like to keep it on manual control for a while." It would ensure that R2 didn't change their course while he was unwary.

Smiling, Luke decided that he was so disagreeable because he missed 3PO. The soon-to-be-Jedi's smile faded, however, when he thought that the droid wasn't the only one missing someone.

He wasn't sure how it would have worked out, but Holly should have been there with them.

42.

Han was tense as he sat in the pilot's seat—his eyes were open wide, simultaneously checking the monitor and the natural window for any sign of their pursuers. Chewie, beside him, was similarly agitated, even shoving _Xenon_ aside in order to pay more complete attention to the controls.

He would have noticed the distinct lack of a certain party if he had been given the time to do anything other than pay strict attention to where he was flying.

"I saw them! I saw them!" he declared, training his gaze on the ships chasing them.

"Saw what?" asked Leia in a loud voice, trying to make herself heard over the constant clanging that the race had caused.

"Star Destroyers, two of them, coming right at us," said Han.

There was a hurried clanking coming from behind them, the footfalls sounding suspiciously like that of a certain bipedal droid. Han groaned quietly, hoping C-3PO wouldn't mess things up. "Sir, sir! I must inform you that—"

Han whipped his head around to Leia. "Shut him up or shut him down," he ordered. Turning to the Wookiee beside him, he said, "Check the deflector shield!"

3PO was thrown forward by a particularly harsh lurch of the ship. Han scolded the droid's design silently as Chewie threw that useless golden block of metal back. Chewie's analysis of the deflector shields was less than satisfactory. "Oh, great," Han complained. But that didn't mean he was giving up. "Well, we can still outmaneuver them."

Han narrowed his gaze in concentration as he leaned forward, guiding the _Falcon_ out of the line of fire of the first two Star Destroyers. He hooked his feet underneath the console to steady himself as he prepared to spin out of the way of the third—only to realize that they were still being followed by TIEs, trailing after them like wasps.

Making a quick decision, Han said, "Prepare to make the jump to light-speed."

3PO's voice rose in yet another protest. "But, sir!" Though the droid certainly thought he had something important to say, Han would hear none of it. It would only be a distraction.

"They're getting closer!" Leia reported, as though Han did not already know. He developed a gleam in his eye— _this ought to impress her._

"Oh, yeah? Watch this."

He flipped the switch—his movements stilled as his eyes darted around, looking for the streaks of light caused by stars when one jumped into hyperspace, but the glowing bodies just sat there.

Well, more specifically, the Rebel bodies just sat there, not making the jump.

Han sent a glance to Chewie, asking him a silent question.

"Watch what?" Leia snapped, clearly not impressed by his show of failure.

He pursed his lips and tried again, yet to no avail. "I think we're in trouble."

"If I may say so, sir, I noticed earlier that the hyperdrive motivator had been damaged. It's impossible to go to light-speed!" 3PO whined.

"We're in trouble!" Han stated, as though it were unknown to everybody but him. "Your Worshipfulness, find Holly and get her down to the hold to prepare the motivator—Chewie, you man the guns!"

"Sir, you must have noticed that Miss Holly is not onboard!"

Han spun around quickly. He caught Leia's gaze as she sent him a questioning glance before turning to Chewie, pleading for any information he had.

Chewbacca, in turn, searched for Xenon, for he might have known of her whereabouts. The Wookiee heard his little clicking sounds within the systems—he was behind the panels, making repairs. "Those droids," Han said. "Always notice things first. But Goldenrod, you didn't check the _whole_ ship, did you?" he demanded of 3PO. "I bet she's off fixing something _else_ that went wrong."

That's what he made himself think, at least.

42.

No matter what Holly was repairing, Han was sure it could wait. Needless to say, his attempts at fixing the hyperdrive were _not_ going well, even without the constant turbulence of TIEs firing at them, and though it pained him to admit this, Han was sure Holly could do a much better job than he. "That was no laser blast! Something hit us!" he told Chewie.

"Han, get up here," Leia ordered over the comlink. Han gripped the side of the grating firmly in his hands as he shot out of the hold, swinging his body over in his hurry to get to the cockpit.

Han saw exactly what had worried Leia the second he got there. "Asteroids!" she exclaimed.

She and Han swapped places—though the princess was many things, she certainly _wasn't_ a pilot. "Oh, no. Chewie, set two-seven-one." The Captain and First Mate began thumbing controls quickly.

"What are you doing?" Leia demanded. "You're not actually going _into_ an asteroid field!"

"They'd be crazy to follow us, wouldn't they?" He concentrated on dodging the large rocks as the hurtled towards the ship almost faster than Han could evade them—almost.

"You don't have to do this to impress me," Leia rushed.

"Let's just hope that, wherever she is, Holly's holding tight," Han said quietly, though Leia heard him anyway.

"Sir, the possibility of successfully navigating an asteroid field is approximately three thousand, seven hundred and twenty to one!"

That droid needed to learn when to shut up. "Never tell me the odds!"

42.

The _Falcon_ had been successfully landed—and 3PO had been proven wrong at the same time. Everything was quiet throughout the ship: Leia sat in the cockpit, keeping a mildly interested watch over the cave in which they sat, while Han and Chewie stood in the corridor nest to the den. The former had his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Chewie moaned softly next to him. Han opened his eyes and turned to the Wookiee, his gaze mirroring the sorrow that they both felt. "I've searched everywhere," he said. "Twice!" Han tried to comfort himself with the thought that she was probably on the last transport, but that only made him feel guiltier; she may have just as well missed it, and he'd been the one to order it away.

He crossed over to the couch, lowering himself down and dropping his face into his hands. Once Xenon finished repairing the port-side cannon controls, he had relayed to Chewbacca what he had overseen right before their departure. "She didn't get back to the _Falcon_."

A sharp, angry clanking made Han look up. Xenon was storming his way with a fury Han had never seen in the droid—he swore he saw eyebrows pull together with a deep, strong loathing. The sound of every move seemed amplified until, when he got to the edge of the table, Xenon halted, and jumped onto Han's sleeve, clawing angrily.

The chirping didn't quiet down, and Han hardly made any move to stop it.

42.

Leia wondered silently, _Was she dead?_

Contrary to what most people seemed to think, Leia didn't dislike Holly. Yes, that the young engineer could talk to Han so easily was a mild annoyance—they didn't constantly argue. Well, that wasn't exactly true, but the arguing that took place between Holly and Han was different from the disagreements between Han and herself. Holly could argue with someone and still be on great terms with them—Leia could, too, usually. But with Han it was different.

And now, he had no-one left with which to argue. Of course, Leia knew that wasn't the reason for Han's glum attitude (the man could argue with anyone, if that were really the issue). She'd lost friends, too, so she knew how it felt. But Han had taken off when she wasn't onboard—he must have blamed himself.

Even from the cockpit, Leia could hear the clanking of O'Reilly's little droid as it attacked Han. It seemed that Xenon blamed Han, too.

Leia, however, blamed Holly. She'd heard the story, as told by Xenon—one of her friends called out for help. Standard protocol wasn't to rush to the side of someone who was lost. If Holly had gone through the introductory training, she would know that she could have easily provided directions to her scared roommate. And besides that, she knew that the _Falcon_ had to leave soon. Not only was it stupid to abandon the ship that she was scheduled to leave in mere moments before it took off, but Holly didn't have any guarantee that she'd make it to the transports before they left, either.

That didn't mean that Leia was sorry for the girl's probable death. Any life lost mattered to the rebellion, and she felt the death of each downed pilot and each lost foot soldier—or each engineer.

It didn't stop Leia from hating what the girl had done to Han, though. She didn't like seeing the reckless Captain so down-trodden, no matter what the reason was.

Searching for words with which to comfort the saddened smuggler, Leia asked herself, _What exactly_ did _you know about Holly O'Reilly that would provide some assurance that she wasn't dead?_

Her first thought was _absolutely nothing._ Leia didn't know anything about the girl—no, by now, she'd be a woman—whom two of her closest friends had grown to care for so deeply. Leia hadn't made an effort to get to know Holly. Maybe she would have, if Holly had made an attempt to get to know _her_.

The fact still stood that Leia didn't have any proof that Holly would fight to keep herself alive. Holly may have been a fighter, but at the same time, she might quit the moment things become difficult.

Yet, Leia assumed that the latter was unlikely: if she went out to save her friend, Holly probably wasn't the sort to cop out of anything difficult.

 _Though, she did run off pretty quickly when I kissed Luke._

Leia grinned at the memory. She hadn't particularly enjoyed the kiss, but the look on Han's face had certainly been worth it. She hadn't stopped to assume that she would hurt Holly in the process—honestly, Leia hadn't spent enough time with the two of them together to realize that there was something between them….or that one of them _wanted_ there to be something.

In conclusion, that kiss had been a mistake. But Holly hadn't been able to control whatever emotion she felt. Instead of keeping her composure diplomatically, Holly had run off.

Not everyone was trained to be royalty, after all. But then Leia wondered what _she_ would have felt if their situations were reversed, if Holly had kissed Han right in front of her just to get Luke jealous.

Still, it was quite a drastic response to seeing two people _kissing_. Holly had been white as a sheet. It wasn't fear, anger, or jealousy that Holly had portrayed. It was something else. Disgust? Possibly. Disgust missed with something else….

Leia shook her head. She would only solve that mystery if she could ask Holly herself what had happened—and that didn't seem likely to happen any time soon.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Leia went to find Han, even if she knew her sympathy for him would undoubtedly melt away the moment he opened his mouth.

42.

Xenon was gloomy. It wasn't often that a droid showed character, Chewie thought, but all those who did seemed to surround him and his little family. Luke's R2-D2 was all right, he thought, but the protocol counterpart was absolutely unbearable. Xenon was the most entertaining of them all, most definitely.

Unless he was depressed. Then, he was absolutely pitiful.

Chewie whined at him, prodding his small metal body softly. He turned his mechanical head to him, green eyes glowing dimly. Chewie whined again, missing Holly a bit, but missing her droid even more.

The Wookiee scooped him up in his palm and made to drop him—he wouldn't actually do it, of course (well, maybe he would, but he'd certainly catch him)—just to get him to react. Instead of clinging tightly to Chewbacca's fur, the droid just fell limply onto his back, snuggling into Chewie's other palm. The droid ran circles around his palm, as though he were a dog trying to find a good spot. Then, he tucked his legs under him and powered down.

Chewie rested his hand on the table in front of him and leaned back, sighing in defeat. Xenon would be in a better mood in the morning.

42.

The blue-green dot in the distance steadily grew larger. Luke glanced down at his monitor, one eyebrow raising when he saw that there were no signs of technological advancement—or technology at all. Indeed, his scanners picked up none of the menial radio transmissions of civilians complaining about their houses, which were undoubtedly covered in vines, judging by the look of the place.

R2 beeped an inquiry. Luke nodded, replying, "Yeah, that's it. Dagobah."

Droids were designed to be perfect servants to their masters. Obviously, R2's development team had missed that memo. The droid beeped out another disagreement, almost pleading for Luke to turn around. "No, I'm not going to change my mind about this." He wasn't sure if his next words were supposed to comfort the droid or not. "I'm not picking up any cities or technology. Massive life-form readings, though. There's something alive down there…."

Of course, it did the opposite of comforting the droid. His mechanical mind must have been racing, jumping to all of the worst-case conclusions, and communicating them to Luke, who chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure it's perfectly safe for droids." He hoped it was, at least.

He wondered what Holly would think of the place. She'd have had some obscure reference to make, certainly, that Luke wouldn't understand. He could just imagine hearing her voice through the comlink, from a ship closely following his own. Then, he dismissed the mere idea of her piloting a ship—If she hadn't gone away on the _Falcon_ , they'd have had to make the journey in a two-seated Y-Wing.

His X-Wing soared through the dense clouds. Luke struggled to see through the white and gray masses racing past him, fearing that he'd crash his ship with such limited visibility.

R2 alerted him to the situation, urging him to change course before they crash. "I know, I know! All the scopes are dead. I can't see a thing! Just hang on, I'm going to start the landing cycle."

His insides were churning with the turbulence of the landing process. His mind was reeling with nerves and anticipation. He felt an odd prickling….something related to the Force that he couldn't quite identify. All of these new feelings bombarded him just as something else left him, something that had been there for a much longer time. He had grown accustomed to its constant presence, and as he entered atmosphere, that connection was severed, as though it were merely a piece of twine set against a sharp knife.

It was something that he didn't notice until it was too late. For three years, he had experienced the presence of another mind reaching out unintentionally through the Force. Luke knew the same feeling with Ben—the Jedi had been monitoring him, with a purpose, until his death. Then, the second Vader's lightsaber took his mentor's life, Luke had felt the absence of that feeling he had grown up with.

It had been intriguing, new, for the first few months of Luke's friendship with Holly. Then he got used to it, was comforted by it—and now, it was gone. And he knew why.

She was no longer connected to the Force. There was only one conclusion he could come to: Holly had died.

Luke was too frozen to avoid crashing into the foggy swamp.

42.

The Empire had a common color scheme. Most of the durasteel on which the Stormtroopers and officers stood was dark grey, almost black, and reflective. This was partly because people in command disliked clashing colors and partly because it would be a waste to hire a painting crew.

Darth Vader didn't care either way. Those who looked upon the endless corridors and fiendish consoles may have complained, but nobody cared about what Stormtroopers thought of the Emperor's choice of décor. Vader was used to his filtered view of the world, his mechanical, artificial, but impeccably exact view of everything around him.

His view of the Emperor's face was unnaturally distorted, as the man was a mere projection. Regardless, there was no doubt of the immense power that Vader could sense through the Force centered around the man. Bowing on one knee, Vader listened to his master speak.

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," said the holographic Sith said in his deep, slow drawl.

"I have felt it," agreed Vader.

"We have a new enemy," the Emperor informed him. "The young rebel who destroyed the Death Star. I have no doubt that this boy is the offspring of Anakin Skywalker."

Vader's mask hardly held back the shock on his face as he processed his master's words. "How is that possible?" His shock did not waver his perpetually even voice.

"Search your feelings, Lord Vader," the Emperor responded. "You will know it to be true." Darth Vader was reluctant to do so, and even more reluctant to admit what he found; there was precedent for the Emperor's statement. "He could destroy us."

Vader knew what his master was implying. Young Skywalker should be eradicated before he has the chance to bring about the Empire's demise. Vader's previous suspicions about the boy were proven correct. However…. "He is _just_ a boy. Obi-Wan can no longer help him."

The Emperor's expression never wavered. "The Force is strong with him. The son of Skywalker must never become a Jedi."

The Sith meant more in that statement than one would assume at first glance. The son of _Skywalker_ must never become a Jedi, rather than the son of _Vader_. He was not the son of Darth Vader while he still dwelled in the Light—and Vader was to have no thoughts to the contrary.

Despite this, the boy _was_ Vader's son. The Vader that Was, at any rate. And because of this relation, he had just as much potential as a Sith Lord as he did as a Jedi Master. "If he could be turned, he would become a powerful ally."

"Yes…." The Emperor said thoughtfully. "Yes. He would be a great asset. Can it be done?"

"He will join us, or die, Master," Vader answered. "I have reason to believe that I hold the key to his turn to the Dark Side within the walls of this very ship."

The Emperor concluded, "Then it shall be done."

42.

So Holly didn't die at the beginning of the chapter. But you don't know what happened after that, now do you? Don't worry. I'll tell the truth one day. But I wanted to dedicate this chapter to the departures of, well, everyone, to set up the rest of the film, and see how Holly's friends handled her 'death.' (Something to keep in mind, though: if Holly isn't dead, which she may very well be, why did Luke feel that sudden loss of connection?)

Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers:

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: Yes, getting to Dagobah does seem a bit unlikely...and with these new developments, does it really seem possible now? You may be right, though-anyhow, I enjoy hearing your theories!

jinglepinglepie: I'm sure your sentiment is shared by every good character mentioned, too...Thanks for reviewing!

Shannyrox101: Authors are terrible people-read their work at your own risk. But it really isn't the end-you'll be glad to know that there's _much_ more to say about Holly's adventure!

JJAndrews: I'm glad you like it! Turns out you're right about Holly using the Force in that instance. I tried to subtly foreshadow it a chapter or so earlier, when she was talking with Luke in the med bay...But very clever of you, whether that's how you figured it out or not! I appreciate your reviews!

Sardhrantor: I suppose I can drop it now. But about the correction: I've been taught that there are two ways to use the phrase 'in future' and 'in the future' and it all really depends on where you're from, and what version of English you use. The former is British English, which is what I learned first, and the latter is its American counterpart. I'm American, but I juggle between both patterns of speech because I was exposed to both since a young age. However, I don't go around spelling "colour" instead of "color" (at least, if I do make that mistake, I catch myself), so I'll change it.

shinigamiConnections: Thanks for spotting the verb tense mistake-I don't know how I missed it. Thanks!

EGGS: _I see what you did there!_ Clever. And, yes, sociopaths like Sherlock...but more specifically, _high-functioning_ sociopaths!

bb4ever1000: I'm really glad you like the character development. Holly was conceived because her character _didn't_ fit into Star Wars, and what you think of her transition really flatters me. As you said, there's still a bit more to fix up with her, but hopefully, by the end, she'll be much better :) Thank you so much for your support throughout these chapters!

Stay tuned for next week's update! And it _probably_ will be on time, because I've got most of it already written.


	25. Chapter 25

A bit late, but I've still updated before the end of the weekend, eh? Be proud. I worked hard to do this. I've already established just how _copious_ my free time is!

Chapter 25:

Holly's mind slowly came back to her. She felt terrible—her head pounded, making her wonder how she had managed to fall asleep in the first place with such a killer headache. Then, she shifted her shoulders, trying to pull her blanket farther up to her neck, only to realize that she didn't _have_ a blanket.

Funny. When she thought about it, though, the platform on which she was lying didn't even feel like her bed. Instead, it was hard and uncomfortable….like she had fallen onto the floor. That would explain why she didn't have a blanket….and her headache….

But it wouldn't explain why everything was so black. It wasn't just _dark_ —dark was when Yvonne forgot to turn on the nightlight, in case one of the roommates had to go late-night bathroom hunting. No, this was black. Pitch.

Holly slowly opened her eyes. It was hard to focus on anything, both because of the fact that she had just woken up and everything was blurry then, but more noticeably because she wasn't wearing her glasses.

Of course she wasn't wearing glasses. She had been asleep.

She could tell, however, despite being visually impaired, that she wasn't in her room. Not just because it was so unusually dark, but because there was nothing in that dark. There were no cabinets, no beds, and no doors. So where was everything?

Or, more specifically, where _was_ Holly?

And then, everything came rushing back to her, hitting her already throbbing head like a steam train. When Holly remembered exactly what had happened, she shot to her feet immediately.

Squinting, she tried to assess her surroundings calmly. Needless to say, she didn't succeed: with each new thing she noticed about her prison, her body began to shake harder. Holly didn't need a sharp eye or any light to see everything there was to see: the flat grey walls held no detail, nor did the similarly solid door. Not that there was any light with which to see the walls, though; she only knew where she was because it was obvious—Darth Vader had come and saved her from dying, probably only to kill her himself. Or torture her for information. Or both.

Suddenly, the ceiling flickered to life, shrouding her with insanely bright, white light. She couldn't tell what shape the lights were, for even if she had her glasses, it would just be too bright.

Somewhere to her right, Holly heard feet slamming to the ground. This surprised her, because she would have figured these walls to be sound-proof. Though, it may have fulfilled its purpose, if scaring the living daylight out of prisoners every time a guard walked by was its intent.

And then, just to make matters worse, the footsteps were accompanied by a loud, mechanical breathing.

Holly was about to die and she knew it. Her best friend's father was about to take her life. Did Luke know? Probably not. The friendship they had couldn't have been faked; he wasn't Vader's right-hand man. Would he feel it when she died? Maybe. She supposed it all depended on whether or not he was trying to—though they were very far away from each other, so the distance might have interfered with any connection they had through the Force.

Thinking about Luke sent her through another hurricane of questions—none of which she could answer, for at that very moment, the doors slid open slowly, as if purposely antagonizing her.

Holly shrunk back against the wall, though she didn't lower herself to the floor. Her eyes were wide with fear, though she tried desperately to control it. The truth was, Holly wasn't a character in some movie who could keep their fears and feelings in check just because the actors who portrayed them aren't good enough to show much emotion. She was, instead, a real person in some stupid fake world about to be murdered to death by _Darth Vader_.

Holly didn't even laugh to herself at how ridiculous her thoughts were; she was too scared. So, instead, she gulped.

Darth Vader looked exactly the same now as he did three years ago. Of course, in the bright light, his helmet looked shinier, but that wasn't what she was focusing on—it was the eyes, which were only pieces of rounded glass, reflecting her own frightened face back at her.

She wasn't even disappointed that she couldn't see any of the details, being without her glasses. Holly didn't _want_ to be able to; it might have added to the level of fear he already evoked from her.

"Why does your continued existence still plague these cells?" he thought aloud. Because of his respirator, nothing he said was capable of sounding like anything less than a clear, intended statement, so Holly really couldn't tell in which manner he spoke, other than condescendingly.

"I find it curious that you are still alive," he began to pace back in forth in front of her. "You survived by mere _luck_ when we met last—and why we meet again, I cannot begin to fathom."

He inclined his helmeted head to her, as if giving Holly a chance to speak. She did not take that chance; there was nothing to say.

"So you are afraid?" he asked, as though surprised. It was all for show, to kindle that fear that already lived inside her. "Fear leads to the Dark Side." He paused for one suspenseful moment.

"I know what you are. I know what you can do."

He stepped closer, and though it was only slightly, it felt significantly closer than he had been before. Holly could only see her frightened eyes more clearly reflected in his own.

"You can do nothing," Vader continued. "On your own, you are useless. A simple pawn." He raised a hand, and Holly feared for a second that he would squeeze her throat until she choked like he had to he Stormtrooper. "But even pawns can win a match, if controlled by the….better player." He whirled around, letting his cape billow behind him as he left the cell and let the door slide closed behind him.

Holly shuddered visibly and averted her eyes. So he was going to use her as….what? A component in his war? Would he move her like a pawn as he had so stated, placing her wherever convenient to serve a purpose?

No, he had Stormtroopers for that. If he kept her alive, it was for a specific reason. What Vader said about fear was what really preyed upon her mind. For one, how could fear be on the _Dark Side_? It was a universal driving force for life—fear is what kept someone from killing themselves in one stupid, curious, or reckless move. Did the Light Side _exempt_ fear from the lives of its followers?

No wonder there didn't seem to be many left.

But then, why did it matter to her? He wouldn't tell her anything unless he specifically wanted her to dwell upon it. Everything he said was intended to evoke a certain response—words chosen carefully, manipulating her thoughts with each syllable.

42.

"Master, you were correct. The friend of Skywalker has a connection to the Force—however, it is weak."

Vader's bowed head raised to see the Emperor's reaction to this news. "As I had foreseen. She is no threat to us."

"That is true, my master."

"Why is she kept alive?"

Vader did his best to keep his tone humble. "I sense she has information pertaining to Skywalker's whereabouts. Once she reveals his location, she will be terminated."

The Emperor nodded. "See that it is done swiftly. Skywalker must not be trained too thoroughly before he begins his path to the Dark Side."

42.

Holly wasn't sure how, but she soon grew bored of being afraid. She sat in a corner, staring ahead at what she assumed was a wall (the lights had been shut off, so she couldn't see anything). With her legs flat in front of her and her hands clasped calmly, Holly tried to settle into focused thought.

The absolute nothing that shrouded her helped. Holly was able to fall deep into her mind in a way that she had never done before—she achieved a resting state that she was sure she hadn't even reached when asleep. Her mind was clear, and she felt like she was floating in an abyss in which she didn't need to worry about _anything_.

It didn't matter that she was in a jail cell onboard Vader's ship. It didn't matter that she had used the Force—really, this time—in self-defense. But it mattered a little bit that Yvonne was dead; how could it not? She had been the closest thing Holly had to a friend besides those she had come to the rebellion with. And she was _dead._

The abyss was interrupted by a sea of swirling maroon that, like ink in a basin of water, spread its color throughout her entire mind. The dark yearning for revenge tainted her thoughts and the peace was gone.

Holly opened her eyes and huffed loudly. Her fingers twitched with anger at that Stormtrooper—she reimagined the situation for what felt like the millionth time that day. This time, however, before the man could pull the trigger, he was grasping at his neck, around which Holly had clasped her hand.

 _Stop._

Revenge. That maroon sought to dominate her completely. The words 'dead,' 'revenge,' and 'stop' echoed in her mind, and she focused on one in particular: stop. It was Luke's voice saying it, begging her not to give in to every urge that seized her—be that giving up or giving in to these dark emotions.

The voice was light—in nearly every sense of the word. It was achingly distant; Holly felt the need to stand, as if to hear it better. She did just that, but the repeating word came no closer. Finally, she relaxed her shoulders and calmed her mind, washing away every drop of maroon—and she didn't miss the voice when it ceased; she was glad she had heard it at all.

 _He's coming. Stay calm. Stay Light._

That was the last she heard of the voice before another sound reached her cell. The same clanging of boots as before. Keeping face was slightly easier now; she kept the voice in mind, and it comforted her. If she followed that advise, she would be all right.

The door slid open. When the black form entered her view, Holly became painfully aware that her fear wasn't entirely abated. Though the maroon was gone, a Sir Robin the not-quite-so-brave-as-Sir-Lancelot shade of green interrupted what should have been calm.

She hoped that this visit would be as short as the first.

"These cells are pitiful, are they not?" Vader glanced around the room, moving his head from left to right and observing the bland walls. "Only deserving of rebel scum like yourself." He clasped his hands behind his back.

"Why am I here?" Holly attempted a deadpan tone, but she struggled to keep her voice level. "I may be a pawn. But I won't be on your side."

"You think you have a choice?" He asked in a surprised tone, though it was obviously false. She was sure it would be accompanied by an evil laugh, if such an action were possible for the man, or machine, or whatever he was. "Fear far surpasses any ability you have to resist."

"Resist _what_? I won't work for you. I won't betray my friends."

"Your free will matters not. What little skill you showed on that base was only a desperate measure to further your life—you are not strong in the Force. To think you stand a chance against a Sith Lord….your intelligence certainly mirrors your ability."

With that, Vader silenced his mouth, but screamed at her through his mind. She could feel his dark, looming presence across the room, but that sense evolved into a shrill screeching that pounded against her head relentlessly.

He was trying to get into her head.

Holly didn't know how that worked, but she did know that she couldn't let it happen. She owed it to her friends, and to Yvonne, and to every last rebel who fled not to give away their location.

Unfortunately, she found herself thinking back to the base—seeing images, hearing conversations. Some of those overheard words may have contained information the Empire found valuable. Holly shut her eyes tight and tried _not_ to think of that….but it was like not thinking of anything—impossible. For her, at least.

"W-wait! I'll tell you where they are. That's what you want, isn't it? I know where the fleet's gone!"

Holly tried to sound as honest as she could—and she had to believe it, too, or else Vader would see right past her lie.

 _No. Don't think that. You're going to tell the truth, and he'll leave you alone and kill all of your friends and he won't kill you and you'll live happily ever after with the guilt of their deaths weighing upon your shoulders for as long as you live_ ….

The attack on her thoughts stopped and Holly allowed herself a moment of rest before launching into a hurried explanation.

"The Rebellion has diplomatic relations with Ambassador Spock. He's ancient, so he knows his way around the galaxy—but he knew you were going to attack. A conman tipped him off—convict called Harry Mudd. Had inside information, but I don't know how he got it. Spock found the Rebellion and gave us coordinates—that's where the fleet is, I swear!" She paused for a heartbeat, waiting for his response, before concluding, "Galactic Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha."

She felt the screeching again, and knew that he hadn't been convinced.

 _That's true. That's exactly what happened. Spock visited the rebellion and warned of an attack because he has tough-telepathy—he saw what Mudd was talking about when he described the Imperial ships and Spock paid him in pounds of Quadrotriticale for the information—we were tipped off and most of us made it out alive. And I already said the coordinates! Your son's there, and all of his friends—kill them all; you know where they are now!_

For a moment, nothing happened. The screeching stopped, but it didn't go away; rather, it just sat there, perpetually imposing on her thoughts, but not trying to push through any more. Holly tried not to think about the possibility of him believing her—she couldn't think of anything that could raise any flags.

Then, after a moment, nothing continued to happen. Holly's eyes were still shut, and her thoughts were frozen in a bizarre image of Spock handing Harry Mudd a bundle of Tribbles, instead of the Quadrotriticale that Tribbles ate. Her eyes opened wide with shock, however, when an unseen hand closed around her windpipe, and she found herself gasping for air.

"What did you say?" Vader snarled, but Holly couldn't answer.

Her mind reeled. What had she said that angered him so? The only possibility could be that he detected her lie—which was more than possible, it was probable. Personally, she was taking a page out of her own book with that explanation—but the book probably wasn't titled _How To_ , at any rate.

"I-I—" She tried to get out a complete word, but she couldn't. So she screamed it, as loudly as she could, through the Force. Unfortunately, she wasn't even screaming words; there was nothing she could say that would make him stop, and that was the last thing she realized before her vision erupted in a bright mix of black and white dots—then she slipped into unconsciousness completely.

42.

Vader did not kill her. What good would it do to kill his source of information? Granted, she had not given up any valuable words yet, but he had only spoken with her all of twice since her abduction. He could feel her connection to Skywalker—surprisingly, it seemed as though she were better connected with the boy than she was with the Force, though it was the Force _through which_ they were connected!

That didn't seem right to him.

That was not the only way in which the girl perplexed him, however. Her existence simply didn't make sense: He could easily feel her sensitivity to the Force, but that was the extent of it. She could hardly manipulate it; that little show on Hoth was not telling of any real skill, as he had surmised before.

No; the real reason for his confusion was what she knew. He could sense a lie that clouded her every thought, her every decision, every day. She had lied to him just moments before, and she had been ignorant enough to think that she'd fooled him.

But she wasn't lying about his son. The problem was, quite obviously, that she shouldn't _know_ about his son. It was too random and improbable a coincidence to say that she'd misspoken or guessed.

So what else did she know?

42.

Luke stared rigidly at the little green... _thing_ standing before him. It was really unlike anything he'd ever seen, with its green skin that was so like the swamp from which it came. Surprisingly, he (was it a he? Luke could only assume) was wearing an old robe, not unlike the style worn by Ben Kenobi back on Tatooine. Luke shook his head and tightened his fist around his blaster—this was not the time for stray thoughts.

"Away put your weapon! I mean you no harm!" cried the little creature in an ancient, croaky voice. His pointed green ears twitched slightly, and he blinked slowly up at Luke, who found himself stowing his blaster back in its holster with no small degree of hesitation. "I was wondering, why are you here?"

Luke eyed him warily. "I'm looking for someone."

The creature's chapped green lips curled into a smile. "Looking? Found someone, you have, I would say, hmmm?" He let out a series of laughs, and Luke struggled not to grin. It was strange to be around someone who was able to crack jokes so easily—as if they didn't know of the war waging around them.

"Right," he said.

"Help you, I can. Yes, mmm."

"I don't think so. I'm looking for a great warrior."

"Ahh!" he cackled in a laugh. "A great warrior! Wars not make one great."

He shook his head and, with the aid of his small walking stick, hobbled off of the log on which he stood and made for Luke's makeshift camp. He plucked at Luke's food—something to which the boy did not react kindly, of course. The little creature had no right to mess with Luke's belongings, least of all the only food on that swampy rock. The two of them argued, and Luke felt irritation grow within him. He wished to be rid of the thing that continually pestered them, to find the Jedi Master—but this new visitor was not making that easy.

"Now, will you move along, little fella? We've got a lot of work to do."

"No, no, no! Stay! Help you, I will." He chuckled once more and pivoted around. "Find your friend, hmm?"

Luke sighed in exasperation. "I'm not looking for a friend; I'm looking for a Jedi Master."

The creature nodded his head in understand. "Oohh, Jedi Master. Yoda. You seek Yoda."

"You know him?" Why did everyone in this galaxy seem familiar with the name but him?

"Hmm. Take you to him, I will." Nodding, he motioned off into the dense jungle. "Yes, yes. But now, we must eat. Come. Good food. Come."

Luke looked to R2, then in the direction of his crashed X-Wing, but the little green man was already heading away. Shooting one glance to the droid, Luke made to follow him through the bubbling swamp.

If he had any delusions that the Force would help him before, his hopes were crushed now. Ever since coming in range of this planet, he'd experienced a tingle in his palms, up his arms, and throughout his whole body, something that he could almost touch. It coincided with what the lack of Holly's presence, and the small optimistic part of him hoped that it _wasn't_ the lack of her presence, but rather, the covering of it.

After all, it wouldn't make any sense for proximity to matter; if it did, shouldn't the feeling fade, instead of vanish all at once? Of course, by that logic, he would feel the new sensation, the new presence, slowly overcome the old one. Something that must have been Yoda should have gradually masked Holly, taken her place. But neither had gone that way; it was there, then it wasn't.

And if this new feeling was supposed to lead him to Yoda, it was doing a pretty bad job.

42.

Holly fell into a routine of sorts. She would lay on her back, hands clasped atop her stomach, floating between a state of sleep and wakefulness—wandering through that space in her mind where emotions resided. It was hardly ever the clear white that it had been when she first peered into her own mind; that dark maroon that had bled through broke the barrier for many, many more dark and light emotions, mingling together in one space.

They hardly ever blended. Clashing, of course, but never merging: with the wide range of blues pressing against the cool purples and the bright, angry oranges that surrounded the reds, she was sure that, if they ever did blend, they would make a dark, ugly brown.

Then, two guards would escort her to a bathroom, where she had two minutes to take care of whatever business needed to be done. Holly would be promptly returned, where she would lay down and recede into her mind once more.

She contemplated many issues, and there was not a single one that had been resolved in that time. Holly couldn't tell how she perceived time anymore—she didn't have a watch, and of course, no Stormtrooper was allowed to provide her with the date or the time. All Holly knew was that her hair had gotten longer—and much dirtier. She'd taken one short, seven-minute shower since her arrival on Vader's ship, and she was finally so fed up with the greasy locks falling into her face that she tied it up in the back of her head with a strand of itself.

"You've been meditating."

Holly was too wrapped up in herself to notice the approaching footsteps. When the voice reached her ears, a dark blue that was almost black invaded her mind. The dark force made her eyes fly open.

"You're not doing it correctly. If you were, I'd not have surprised you."

Holly's eyes found those of Vader. She didn't bother rising from her spot on the ground, because honestly, she didn't wish to see that masked face any clearer.

"One cannot fully understand himself until he allows the inner conflicting emotions to merge. Separate emotions inside the mind can never agree."

Holly narrowed her eyes into a glare. "I'm not going to take meditating advice from a Sith." She closed her eyes once more and tried to watch the colorful blurbs of emotion, but they lost their resolution.

"It matters not where you got your information, be it from a Sith or a Jedi."

Holly scoffed. "The source is everything. I'd trust an observation I make with my own eyes over the word of someone else any day." She wasn't sure what it was about the situation that did so, but her fear was not as prominent. At least, not as outwardly so—that was an improvement. However, if Vader could tell how she was _meditating_ (Holly hadn't even known that was what she was doing!), he would undoubtedly see the fear still lurking within her, a pale green that resided in the corner of her mind.

"You will know it is true."

With that, Darth Vader left the cell.

42.

C-3PO faced the glowing panel, waiting for its beeping to cease before punching a few lines of code. The incessant noise did not stop, however, and 3PO let out a very human scoff that was rarely heard from a droid. "Oh! Where is R2 when I need him?!"

Han crossed over from one side of the room to another, crouching down to rewire a few of the polarity cables. "Sir," 3PO began, "I don't know where your ship learned to communicate, but it has the most peculiar dialect. I believe, sir, it says that the power coupling on the negative axis has been polarized. I'm afraid you'll have to replace it."

At those words, Han's eyes grew concerned. Power couplings? That was the _last_ thing he expected to be wrong with the ship. Holly had fixed the last one, hadn't she? She'd barely made it back to the ship with a few spares….and what happened after that….well, Han tried not to think about it.

But the real question was, why was it still malfunctioning?

Han adjusted a dial and turned to the protocol droid. "Well, of course I'll have to replace it!" he stated as he went over to Chewie, who was working in the general vicinity of the negative axis couplings.

It didn't make sense. His ship never lied, and he knew that 3PO hadn't mistranslated; come to think of it, all of the symptoms his ship showed were remarkably similar to a faulty power coupling. But Holly wouldn't make a mistake, either; she wasn't confident enough in her abilities, Han knew, not to double- and triple-check herself.

The only other explanation had to be her intent. Hadn't she said once that, "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth?" He shook his head—however true that little quote may have been, there was no way Holly would deliberately make a mistake on his ship. There was no final possibility.

Han handed a cable up to Chewie. "Here! And Chewie…." He dropped his voice so the droid wouldn't hear. "….I think we'd better replace the negative power coupling."

A few moments later, he found Leia in the corridor, struggling with the lever that connected the valves on the panel to the power system. She huffed in annoyance and put all of her strength in twisting the lever, but she simply wasn't strong enough. Han moved to help her in the most conspicuous way possible— _unintentionally_ conspicuous, of course.

She shrugged him off harshly.

"Hey, your Worship, I'm only trying to help."

Leia rolled her eyes. "Would you please stop calling me that?"

Smirking, Han replied, "Sure, Leia."

"Oh, you make it so difficult sometimes." Leia found herself struggling to keep red from rising in her face—where it was red in anger or a blush, she wasn't sure.

"I do, I really do," Han nodded. "You could be a little nicer, though." He narrowed his eyes as he observed her reaction, which he deemed to be in his favor. "Come on, admit it. Sometimes, you think I'm all right."

"Occasionally," Leia conceded, halting the small smile that fought its way into her face. "When you aren't acting like a scoundrel."

Han let out a laugh. "Scoundrel?" he asked incredulously. "Scoundrel? I like the sound of that." He reached forward and grabbed her grimy hands, grinning when he felt that they were still very soft.

"Stop that," Leia protested as he pulled her slowly closer.

"Stop what?"

"Stop that!" she demanded, trying to pull her hands away, but she couldn't, both for his grip and her true reluctance to leave the warm grasp. "My hands are dirty."

Han stuffed back a scoff. "My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?"

Leia forced herself to look him in the eye, despite her rising blush. "Afraid?"

He focused on her gaze, for it was, for once, not laced with anger and irritation. She looked sincere, and Han relished this moment—with her—and held it as a bright point in an otherwise terrible set of circumstances. "You're trembling."

She immediately retorted, "I'm not trembling."

Very slowly, Han pulled her forward. "You like me because I'm a scoundrel. There aren't enough scoundrels in your life."

"I happen to like nice men," she responded, though Han could sense something different in her tone—she didn't really mean what she said.

"I'm a nice man."

"No, you're not," Leia argued, and the two of them were now so close that their noses lightly touched. "You're…."

Deliberately, for this was something he had been planning for quite some time, Han silenced her with a kiss.

Neither of them had any idea how long they stood there, lips locked, in that corridor. They both, however, felt immense disappointment when they were drawn away from each other with the arrival of 3PO.

He tapped Han on the shoulder, and the smuggler turned icily to face the droid. "Sir, sir! I've isolated the reverse power flux coupling!"

Sarcastically, Han snapped, "Thank you. Thank you very much."

"Oh, you're perfectly welcome, sir," he said, oblivious to the biting remark.

42.

Today, Holly got a shower. She wasn't given a time limit—and even if she were, it wouldn't matter; she'd ignore it anyway.

She stood beneath the head of the sonic shower. It was an odd sensation that she had only experienced a few times; water was easy enough to procure on Hoth, seeing as most of the planet had been made of ice, but it was not so on the ship. Holly wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but she greatly preferred the water-based alternative, though it was less expensive and not nearly as convenient. However, it allowed her to relax; she even began humming softly.

Her mind wandered. Her thoughts, majorly, dwelled upon her 'meditation.' It was odd to imagine doing anything of the sort; meditation was the type of thing that old, hooded monks with white beards and nothing better to do with their time did. But it was, in fact, relaxing.

But Darth Vader didn't _meditate,_ did he? Wouldn't it be….un-Sith-ish? Meditation struck her as a very calm, peaceful thing to do, and those were, as she knew, words to describe the Light side of the Force.

So could one meditate _in_ correctly, while still meditating? If someone on the Dark Side 'meditated,' why was it still called thus? Would it not be different?

Holly shouldn't have allowed her curiosity to do this, but she imagined that white canvas in her mind, with all of the painted colors placed next to each other, but separated by a definite line. She took a brush and ran it across the entire surface of her consciousness, blending all of the paints into a streak of multicolored emotions. Holly didn't even have to consciously blend anything more; everything mixed from that line, swirling around itself and changing color as it blended.

Holly wanted to scream in fear, cry for loss, and shout in anger just as she wished to jump in excitement and laugh in glee. Every emotion that she felt then and had ever felt before were indistinguishable from one another; if she laughed, there was nothing to keep her from tearing her own eyes out as she did so.

Holly thought that being a hormonal teenage girl had been difficult, handling so many emotions. God, had she been naïve.

She turned her head up to the showerhead and grinned a wide, gleeful smile, then erupted into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

Abruptly, she stopped. Her mind's eye narrowed as it observed the blended colors. It was not right. That was not the way things were supposed to be—not everything was supposed to be one. An engine would not function if a gear was one with the fuel that powered it. The emotions blended and amplified themselves in a way that emotions never should—in the few moments that she allowed them to dominate her senses, she lost all sensible thought and just succumbed to her emotion. How could anyone handle an overabundance of that magnitude?

Holly was disgusted with herself. Vader had suggested that practice; it was on the Dark Side. Vader, the man who had killed Obi-Wan Kenobi. Holly smashed the buttons of the sonic shower off and threw on a new pair of grey slacks and a tunic—something that had been stowed away in a cabinet of the small bathroom and blended very well with the rest of the ship—and stormed out of the bathroom, hardly paying attention to the guards as she was replaced in her cell.

Rage continued to flood her. It was direction towards herself—she had willingly and deliberately attempted something that was undoubtedly on the Dark Side.

She'd been _stupid_ —what was she thinking, following the advice of a Sith?! Of _course_ Darth Vader was trying to manipulate her….and he did a damn good job of it. She'd walked right through the door, one that he had left open. But where did it lead? What had she gotten herself into? Holly couldn't even begin to speculate, because she knew that the results wouldn't please her.

All she could think about was how disappointed Luke must have been with her.

42.

Well! I know none of you actually thought Holly was dead; honestly, it wasn't even _supposed_ to be a surprise. The only reason this chapter wasn't connected to Chap. 24 is because it would be _way_ to long if they weren't separated.

Thank you to those who've reviewed:

Sardhrantor: Thanks again! I really do try to spot them before I upload these, but of course, I don't catch them all...thanks for helping me out these past chapters.

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: I'm trying my best to keep this story going. As you see, I'm experimenting a bit with the Dark/Light Side of the Force, and Holly's _certainly_ going to have a struggle, as you can see. Thanks for sharing your theories!

Jinglepinglepie: Maybe this one's better?

Smile Back: I value your comments just as much as everyone else's, no matter how long they are! And in response, if you're speaking of the verb tense confusion, I was reading a story written in present tense and that transferred to a few paragraphs of my story. I've gone back and fixed those, but whatever I have to read for school really influences my writing style. Really sorry about that...And, as of yet, Han and Leia _are_ on the asteroid. I write the scenes that Holly's not a part of when it impacts her story, so if I write a scene for Han and Leia that seems to jump, I'll try to at least reference the development that I haven't written out-it's just a bit boring, copying exactly what the movie says. (But see? Now you've gotten me on a tangent-a much too extensive response.)

EGGS: I understand how you'd prefer to read about Holly; I like writing her stuff more, too. But I had their sort of 'reaction shots' written, and I couldn't add them to this chapter without making you wait too long, and having the document amounting to 10, 000 words...but here you are! Holly's side of things! Thank you for reviewing.

So, as you can see, I've experimented with the Force, and how Holly interacts to it. The movie's a bit vague about _how_ it works and _what_ it is (unless you count the parasitic midi-chlorians), so it leaves a lot to interpretation, especially when it's in writing. I hope you like how I'm approaching it! See you (maybe) next week for a new update!


	26. Chapter 26

I'm a bit late; however, this lack of punctuality was not without warning. So just enjoy the updates while you can, 'cause my timing _won't_ improve, unless school decides to cut me some slack.

Chapter 26:

The strange creature lived in a carved hole, basically. It was fitted perfectly for his, the creature's, height; that meant that it was much too small for Luke. He found himself bending at the knees and the waist just to shuffle through the door. The rain fell outside, and while he was happy to avoid the downpour, he would have liked not to bump his head with every step he took.

There were a few small rocks on which one could sit—so long as one was three feet tall and slight. Against the wall was set a fireplace, the heat of which beckoned to Luke; he approached it and settled into an uncomfortable kneeling position, then turned to the small man whose home he was occupying.

"How far away is Yoda? Will it take us long to get there?" he questioned, with no small amount of impatience as he brushed a snake away from his boots.

The green man chuckled. "Not far. Yoda not far. Patience; soon, you will be with him." He came up beside Luke and grabbed the spoon from the pot suspended above the fire, bringing it to his mouth. Luke shuffled aside. "Rootleaf, I cook. Why wish you become Jedi, hm?"

Luke tilted his head and considered. "Mostly because of my father, I guess."

"Ah, your father. Powerful Jedi was he, yes. Powerful Jedi. Hmm."

Luke fixed the creature with an irritated look. "Oh, come on; how could you know my father? You don't even know who I am." His voice rose as the thunder crackled outside. "I don't even know what I'm doing here! We're wasting our time!" Luke ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Luke didn't notice, but the creature fixed his gaze on a point in the distance. "I cannot teach him. The boy has no patience."

The next voice caught the young man's attention. "He will learn patience." It was Ben. He glanced around, searching for his old master, but Luke could not find him; Ben was dead. How could he hear his voice?

Then it dawned on him. That creature wasn't just a natural inhabitant; the creature _was_ Yoda, speaking with his old apprentice!

"Hmm. Much anger in him, like his father," Yoda said solemnly to the ghost of Ben Kenobi.

"Was I any different when you taught me?" questioned the deceased Jedi.

"Hah. He is not ready."

Luke focused his gaze on the alien. "Yoda! I am ready. I…." the ancient Jedi wasn't convinced. "Ben! I can be a Jedi. Ben, tell him I'm ready!" he begged desperately. He whipped his head around, trying to find the corporeal form of the old hermit, but all he accomplished was banging his head against the ceiling.

Yoda challenged him. "Ready, are you? What know you of ready? For eight hundred years I have trained Jedi. My own counsel I will keep on who is to be trained! A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind!" He indicated Luke to an invisible Kenobi. "This one a long time have I watched. All his life he has looked away….to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph. Adventure, ha! Excitement, ha! A Jedi craves not these things." Yoda faced Luke with a severe stare. "You are reckless."

Luke looked down into his lap, knowing he was guilty of what Yoda described.

"So was I, if you'll remember."

Yoda considered Luke once more. "He is too old. Too old to begin training."

"But I've learned so much!" Couldn't he tell just how far Luke had come from the farm boy he had been, if Yoda had kept an eye on him like he said?

Yoda's large eyes narrowed, as if assessing just what Luke _had_ learned. Not tact, obviously. "Will he finish what he begins?" he sighed.

"I won't fail you. I'm not afraid," Luke enforced.

The Jedi settled his gaze once more upon the boy and spoke in the most severe tone. "Oh, you will be." Luke felt shivers crawl down his spine at his tone. "You will be."

Nearly an hour later, the two of them had both eaten. Yoda enforced in Luke the physical need for sleep—and of course, this need was not to go ignored by the boy; he was exhausted as it was, and so he promptly settled into a makeshift cot for the night, under Yoda's roof, safe from the rain.

Yoda stood near his window and observed the rain falling. The pale form of Obi-Wan Kenobi stood beside them, and the two held quiet counsel.

"Tangled with the Dark is he," the short Jedi Master assessed. "Hmm, indeed. In more ways than one."

Obi-Wan nodded. "You mean the girl?" he said. "Holly is resilient. She will not succumb to the Dark Side; I am sure of it."

Yoda nodded, though it wasn't in agreement. "Blinded, you have become, by this assurance. Sensed it, I have; yes. Already fallen, she may have. Hmm."

Obi-Wan folded his arms and fixed his eyes to the wall. "However tempted she may be, Master, I know Holly will not fall. She may be in peril, but she cannot be persuaded to betray her friends, and she's too clever to be tricked."

"Cleverer, Vader is, hmm," Yoda argued. "She is vulnerable. Yes. Resilient, she may be. Impervious? No."

Sighing softly, Obi-Wan had to agree. "She will try her best, Master. Vader will undoubtedly use her connection with Luke to sway her."

Yoda chuckled. "Yes, yes. Connection. It cannot be permitted. Allowed to return, she must not be."

Obi-Wan abruptly turned his sharp gaze upon his companion. "You cannot suggest abandoning the girl," he said incredulously. "And it was a mistake to prevent a connection last time. If that is your final ruling, you must know that it has happened before, and it will happen again; further separation may drive both of them to the Dark Side. You and I both have seen their friendship; perhaps such strict disconnection is what led to the downfall of the last Jedi Order."

He braced himself mentally, prepared for the sharp reprimand he would undoubtedly receive from the old Master. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when Yoda merely grunted, turned, and hobbled on his cane over to his bed.

Perhaps Obi-Wan had succeeded in making his point.

42.

"Apology accepted, Captain Needa," Darth Vader said.

The cracking of the Captain's throat ceased, and the tension in his fingers visibly slackened. Vader lowered his hand, watching with no small degree of satisfaction as the incompetent officer lost his footing and fell to the floor, lifeless.

Vader turned away from the body as two obedient Stormtroopers hurried to remove it. He strode towards the console, on which readings were displayed in bright red statistics, Admiral Piett trailing behind. The nervous officer thought over his words carefully before speaking them—Needa had just been killed for losing sight of the ship, after all, and Piett didn't exactly bring forth good news.

"Lord Vader, our ships have completed their scan of the area and found nothing. If the _Millennium Falcon_ went into light-speed, it'd be on the other side of the galaxy by now," Piett reported.

Vader silently cursed, though he was not exactly surprised with this new development. "Alert all commands. Calculate every possible destination along their last known trajectory."

"Yes, my Lord," Piett responded dutifully. "We'll find them."

"Don't fail me again, Admiral." The body that had been lying on the floor by his feet was warning enough for the man, who had witnessed more than his share of deaths at the unseen hand of Lord Vader.

"Alert all commands. Deploy the fleet," Admiral Piett relayed to the bridge.

42.

How does one undo an action completely? Holly sought an answer relentlessly, but she came to no satisfactory results; it was simply not possible to separate blended paint. She wished she could hold the chaotic medium that was her mind out in the sun and evaporate each color out, one by one, until that canvas existed as white once more.

Holly had never liked painting much. Well, that wasn't completely true; she didn't mind the act of laying the color on paper with a brush, but she never got as much satisfaction from it. With music or math, she could be much more precise, and she made something that _looked_ good and made sense, rather than something that felt good and looked terrible.

You couldn't erase paint, which was one of the major factors leading to her distaste of the medium. But what if she could? With white paint, Holly could do the equivalent of erasing it, couldn't she?

Holly tried it. With the same brush that had blended all of those emotions, a coat of white paint was applied to the entire surface of her mind. It was tiring and meticulous; she couldn't swipe the brush across her mind to spread the paint, or else she'd just water everything down to a paler shade; she had to lay it down dot by dot, covering the shifting emotions with a static layer of drying, crumbling white paint that left her mind chapped, rigid.

Instead of being uncomfortably chaotic, it was uncomfortably static. She felt as though she'd jumped from one extreme to another, but Holly knew that the Light side of the Force wasn't like this. It was peaceful, not abrasively restraining.

Holly forced her thoughts to return to her physical body—she felt stiff, like she hadn't moved in a very long time. Crossing one foot over the other, she bent over and stretched, but Holly soon came to the conclusion that it wasn't her body that was stiff; it was her brain.

She'd spent all that time meditating, dealing with emotions. Holly had even jumped around a bit, so as not to waste away, but she'd not had one opportunity to exercise her brain. She could quench that thirst by reading, but there were no books in sight.

That left her no choice but to resort to her oldest time waster: counting by doubles.

She'd gotten to eight-thousand two-hundred eighty-four—though she was sure she'd slipped up somewhere along the line—before her train of thought was interrupted by a door sliding open.

Holly didn't know if she was expecting the Stormtroopers or Vader, but she was a bit surprised when neither stood in front of her. Instead, a straight-backed Imperial Officer in his metallic grey uniform stared straight ahead with dead eyes. He spoke in a monotonous voice that oozed rehearsal: "The prisoner of this cell is to evacuate its current residence and provide complete cooperation in their transportation."

Holly stood up on her toes to meet his gaze, though his eyes could have been made of marble for how much they shifted. He didn't blink. "And how long did it take you to memorize that, huh? Did you practice in front of a mirror?"

She sneered at the man as he turned an about-face and marched down the corridor. Anger at him bubbled easily inside her—the layer of white paint cracked, and mahogany mixed with some sort of ugly blue bled through. "Yeah, I wouldn't spend much time in front of mirrors if I were you, either."

Holly tried to burn holes into his neatly pressed uniform with her gaze alone. While he may not have personally done her wrong, that did not change the fact that he aided the opposing cause; he was an Imperial. A fellow Imperial had murdered Yvonne right in front of her. Disgust clouded her eyes when she remembered that _she_ had once donned an Imperial uniform—it hadn't meant half to her then what it meant to her now.

"Silence is to be exercised," his perfect pronunciation spoke. Holly wondered if he even understood what he was saying—for all she knew, they could be Cylons, programmed only to repeat commands given to them without comprehending the words they spoke.

A group of ten running Stormtroopers rushed past them, and it only served to remind Holly just how unlikely escape was. The walls were perfectly flat, without even a trace of paneling to remove. Her old fallback obviously wouldn't work. Now that she was out of her cell, she would have expected to rush at the chance to run free, for once, but that was surprisingly low on her list of priorities. Instead, she wished to stay as long as she could, to get to know the faces of those who had killed Yvonne—that way, she would get more satisfaction out of their deaths.

Whatever they died of—the Alliance, Vader's choke hold, old age—Holly would cherish it.

Holly closed one eye, as though she were looking through the scope of a gun, and raised her right arm to eye level. She spread her hand, palm facing out, and channeled all of her anger to her fingertips, painting them dark reddish brown as they closed into a fist.

The greatest response Holly got was the twitch of the officer's right arm before she slackened her arm and let out a heavy sigh.

42.

As Sergeant Anders led the prisoner through the starboard passage, he drew in a deep breath. There must've been something in the air—for a moment, he swore his throat was closing up.

42.

"I must applaud you, Lord Vader, on your progress with the prisoner," the blue projection of the Emperor spoke.

"Master, I have not gained any insight on Skywalker's location," Darth Vader reminded him, respectfully. "The resistance she offers is surprising."

The Emperor chuckled. "Regardless, my Apprentice; progress _has_ been made. I sense a Dark Force prevailing—each small victory impels the tides of war to roll in our favor. Your attempts at turning her may indeed forward our efforts."

"Her abilities pale in comparison to Skywalker's. She is stronger in the Dark, but that difference would be indistinguishable against his natural skill," Darth Vader reported, as though the Emperor had overlooked this detail.

He smiled villainously. "I mean not to pit them against each other, my pupil; rather, she could be used as… _incentive_. Bring the boy to me, Lord Vader; that is all your mission entails. I will turn him."

Vader bowed his head as the form of his Master flickered and died. He rose from his knees and stared straight ahead at the stars beyond the window. He had once wished to explore all of them, in their bright beauty; now, he yearned to engulf them in dark dignity. In a way, stars were both brilliant, shining bodies and mere objects in space suspended in perpetual darkness.

The ship jumped into hyperspace, though Vader did not physically feel the transition; higher caliber ships, such as his, flew smoothly. His only indication was the blurring of each celestial object as they were left behind in realspace.

A chirping attracted his attention to the comms panel on the wall. He turned to face it as an officer through comms reported, "My Lord, the prisoner and escort are approaching, as you have ordered." Another chirp indicated the end of the transmission, and Vader did not respond; instead, he faced the large door and awaited their arrival.

42.

Sergeant Anders was promptly dismissed upon arrival to Darth Vader's chamber. He bowed stiffly and nearly ran down the corridor, desperate to be relieved of the presence of the Dark Lord of the Sith and his insane prisoner.

Darth Vader noticed, with much pleasure, that the aforementioned girl's posture had changed considerably. She had not stood tall when first he spoke with her, and she was not proud now; however, there was a certain sign in someone's bearing that anyone with a trained eye could spot.

He could tell that she'd been dabbling in the Dark Side. It had taken a toll on her physically and mentally—the latter, for obvious reasons. However, Vader himself knew the struggle between the Light and the Dark; once one's mind was completely wasted in the struggle, the fight moved to one's physical being.

This showed him that he was both succeeding and failing—the seed that was planted in her mind was growing, but the surrounding forest constantly tried to smother it, to little avail. She would worsen and worsen until the struggle took her own life, and while that would not be an entirely unpleasant alternative, she had another purpose.

Her eyes fixed into his mask, sending waves of intense hatred towards him. That was good; it was one of the strongest emotions, being overbearingly dark. Did she realize that?

"I doubt you will be relieved to discover that your friends onboard the Corellian Freighter are on course for the planet Bespin," He informed her.

He watched an interesting display of emotions reveal itself on her face. At first, she eyed him with slight confusion, but her gaze grew worried as the full impact of the situation dawned on her.

"Why is that ship significant?" she tried to spit out, but it left her lips shakily. "Your son's not onboard. You must have known that."

He clasped his hands behind his back. "I had my suspicions. You have my thanks for confirming them," he inclined his head to her, and he grinned beneath his helmet as she was berated by a sea of loathing. "Is there no further help you can provide?"

She stared at him.

"You may start by explaining your knowledge of my son."

She bit her lip. "We kinda worked together on the Rebel Base on Hoth. Not sure if you knew that or not….your forces only _destroyed_ the entire planet."

"Let us compromise," suggested Vader, unfazed by her dismissal of his true inquiry. "You provide me with the truth and I will refrain from reducing your comrades to stardust." The prisoner gulped visibly. "I will not ask another time: _How do you know of my son_?"

42.

Holly shuffled her feet anxiously as she considered her response.

She could keep her silence—say nothing about Luke, how she knew him, or where he was going—but if she chose that option, her friends would not keep their lives. Han, Leia, Chewie, and the droids would all be blown to smithereens, and it would be her doing.

But if she chose the alternative, Luke himself would be hunted down. And depending on how much skill and knowledge he had gained in his training with Yoda, he wouldn't stand a chance against Darth Vader. She was sending one person to the guillotine in exchange for the lives of multiple others; if she subscribed to the Vulcan mentality of "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," the choice should have been clear cut.

But it wasn't.

The said "alternative" could not consist of the truth, of course. Any explanation she could possibly offer had to avoid the subject of the Saga-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and she had no idea what excuse could take its place. She knew too much of one thing, but not enough to answer—the characters _were_ related, but how much of that relation did each of them know?

"You misunderstand the severity of your decision," Darth Vader enforced. "Choosing not to speak will end lives. Is that what you wish to be? A murderer?"

Holly blinked slowly, for it was now such a strenuous task, and she felt moisture in the corners of her eyes. _Good God, I'm not about to cry, am I?_ "L-Luke didn't tell me," she stammered out, remembering all that Luke and Obi-Wan had told her of his father. "Obi-Wan did. Before he died."

For a tense moment, Vader studied her, the only sound being his mechanical respiration. He had paused in his pacing, a movement that Holly hadn't even registered because she was too focused on her response. She wondered just how clearly he could read her thoughts: Was she safe, so long as she refrained from thinking….it?

Holly quickly shut herself up.

She noticed the faintest _click_ every time Vader prepared to speak. To her, it was a clear sign that he had spoken to her too much. "A convincing story," he remarked. "Would I find truth in that tale, I wonder, if I searched deeper, or would only more questions arise?"

"Yes," she answered honestly. Well, partially honestly. "One question you'd see is: Why don't you just kill me now, kill my friends, and keep on ruling the galaxy like no rebellion had happened? Sure, some will keep yelling, 'Help, help, I'm being oppressed,' but then again, they didn't vote for you, did they?"

"I will deal with the citizens of the galaxy as I see fit. This petty Rebel Alliance that you try to represent stands just as high a chance of surviving as you do."

"I'm still alive though, aren't I?" she bit back. "So's the Alliance."

That click again before he spoke. "Notice your inner turmoil. It must be difficult to miss. Those dark emotions will tear at the walls of your mind, the prison in which you lock them, until they topple the entire establishment." He waved a hand at her. "This piteous form you call a body will not last long. The Dark Side will consume you from the inside out if you do not embrace it." It sounded like a threat.

For all of her bold words earlier, Holly could not find the strength to scoff, mainly because she knew what he said to be true. She could feel the dark forces pulling and pushing at her, urging her to move in one direction or the other, as though she were standing in the swaying waters of a rough beach. While Holly fought the current for fear of being pulled out to sea, she hadn't enough strength to pull herself to shore.

The white paint cracked and the partially blended colors sat uncovered in her mind, not fully merged, but not separate, either.

Darth Vader slid the door open without moving from his spot; outside, two guards clad in white were waiting, and though this must have been a common occurrence, they both jumped as the door moved seemingly on its own. "Bring the prisoner to cell 237."

42.

Cell 237 differed slightly from the old one. This one had a bed.

42.

A starship must be a well-oiled machine in order to run properly, both in the literal meaning of the expression and otherwise. Every part must be maintained in order for the ship to be in pristine condition—every pilot, mechanic, engineer, and bum on the dark roads of lower Corellia knew that. Everyone save for Han Solo, that is, who didn't seem to understand that if the power couplings did not work, the ship did not work.

Now, there were plenty of damaged parts on the _Millennium Falcon._ However, Han and Chewie always found a way around those complications; rewiring the systems was usually a valid solution. Holly had complained many times about the compression coils being wired to the hydraulics, which 'increased the possibility of your death by forty-two percent,' she had said, but Han couldn't care less whether they were wired to the hydraulics or the air conditioning; if it worked, it worked.

Han and Chewie always found a way to get away with repairs in the cheapest and most convenient way possible. If that meant connecting something to a system it shouldn't have interfered with, so be it: it was acceptable in their books if it got them another just lightyear.

But there was just no way around these faulty compression coils.

They actually felt the impact that the malfunctioning parts had on the ship. No hyperdrive—aside from life support, a hyperdrive was most important part of a ship. He could make do without that sonic shower for a few trips. If he had a hyperdrive, Han didn't even _need_ the weapons system, so long as he stayed out of trouble. Without the compression coils, though, the quickest pace at which they could move was a walk, which not only increased the time spent traveling exponentially, but it also increased the likelihood that they would run into enemies in that time.

When they departed from Hoth nearly a week prior, none of them had foreseen these complications. Well, save for 3PO, but they all did their best to ignore that grating protocol droid. If Holly were here, perhaps she'd keep him occupied (for some unexplained reason, she _liked_ that jumble of wires), but the fact that she _wasn't_ here made the situation as grim as it was.

Not specifically Holly, of course. The four of them were split up, most likely across the galaxy. Luke was at Dagobah—that lucky kid. He got out the easiest, while they were stuck, with no hyperdrive, and no plan of what to do next. Going to Bespin was just a whim—honestly, Han wasn't sure they'd even be welcome in Lando's city, but it was the best chance they had.

And as for Holly….there were two places she could be. The preferable alternative was with the fleet: she escaped with her roommate and made it to the transport vessels in time. But unless she suddenly obtained the ability to transport herself anywhere in the galaxy at will, that possibility was highly unlikely. Han knew that she was probably dead.

Chewie, beside him, let out a loud growl. That pulled Han from his thoughts, and he turned to address his friend indignantly, but it seemed that the Wookiee hadn't been talking to him.

In Chewbacca's hairy palm sat Xenon, but he seemed to be trying to flee. The droid chirped madly, trying to jump from Chewie's hand, but he was continually grabbed and suspended in the air every time he made a run for it.

From the half-conversation that Han could understand, he understood that Chewie was merely preventing Xenon from going dormant again. All the droid wanted to do was mope—which was understandable, he supposed, for a person, but how attached droids became to people had always confused him.

Han couldn't bear the arguing that took place beside him, so he set the ship on autopilot and left the cockpit to seek out the only other person within twelve parsecs.

42.

"It's her fault we're out here," Leia said the second Han stepped into the living space. "She sabotaged the compression coils. You said she installed the last ones, right?"

Han halted, surprised by her accusation. "What? No! Holly wouldn't do that. Why would you even suggest it?" Yes, it had crossed his mind fleetingly, but he had dismissed the notion immediately.

"Who else could it be? She brought the coils here. She installed them. I've spoken to 3PO; he said the switches were worn, but that sort of degrading didn't happen naturally," she provided. Leia lounged on the couch, eyeing him for his reaction.

Han crossed his arms. "Maybe someone used 'em wrong," he denied. "Plenty of people worked in the repair hangar; could've been anybody."

An argument ensued; If they didn't work, why didn't someone recycle their parts? Maybe they hadn't gotten around to it. Why did they put them on her workbench? They may not have been there. Then where did she get them, since everything else was being put on the transporters?

"Holly's been my friend for three years! She wouldn't purposely hinder our escape!" Han said insistently. "You've never liked her. That's fine. But don't try to get her court-martialed!"

Leia huffed indignantly. "That's not what I'm trying to do! If she is alive, we'd need people like her to help put a stop to the Empire—but not if there's even the slightest chance she'd betray us, and that's where all the facts are pointing!"

"Will you think about the _people_ for once, and not the cause? Nobody will want to fight for you if you're just going to dishonor their lives after they're dead," Han muttered as he shoved his hands into his pockets, off to find 3PO. He needed assurance that Holly _couldn't_ be at fault.

42.

The slim bed that set the new cell apart from the old one was unimpressive. Holly found herself envying the cells in the Death Star; the platforms in the cells of that station on which one could lie down had not creaked with every movement of the body above it.

Holly sat down, placing her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her hands. She pulled at her hair until her scalp was raw, her face a blotchy red as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She had just woken from a nightmare—though, soon, it would probably be reality.

Holly remembered it vividly. She had been sitting on her grandfather's rocking chair, in the living room of his house, though the owner of house and chair was nowhere to be seen. Holly hardly recalled being in that house in the past, for she had been very young before her grandfather died, but she had seen it in pictures.

In front of her sat an old tube television, on which bright pictures were passing before her eyes. It had taken her a moment to discern what the image was, but leaning forward, she saw the _Millennium Falcon_ , darting through an asteroid field. It was closely followed by a ship—Darth Vader's ship. The scene swapped, showing Han Solo, Chewbacca, Princess Leia, and two droids in the cockpit, panicked looks their faces. The pilot, Han, cursed aloud. "Damn you, O'Reilly. Leia knew you'd get us killed—I should've believed you."

Back to the asteroid field—the shots fired by the pursuing ship no longer missed its mark. In one swift blow, the _Falcon_ exploded with a flash. The next shot was of Holly, standing on the bridge of Vader's ship, hands clasped confidently behind her back as she smiled at the scene beyond the glass window.

"Congratulations, girl," Darth Vader praised, coming up beside her. "I have dealt with Skywalker. This day marks the end of the Jedi and the end of the Rebellion."

Holly had woken up and paced for several moments, but the tears welling in her eyes made her vision so blurry—much blurrier than usual—and she had to sit down.

Usually, nightmares did not make her cry. This one, however, was too true, too _real_ , to ignore. Only the previous day had she been told of the discovery of the _Falcon_ , after all. If Darth Vader knew where Han's ship was, Holly was certain that his promise not to destroy them wouldn't hinder his orders in the slightest.

The figurative cyanide icing on the cake was the fact that she, herself, had stood on the bridge and watched her only friends left in the galaxy be blown to smithereens.

The paints mixed further. The brush passed over the canvas, swirling the paint in small circles very close to one another, then letting the whites drip into the red, and the red into the green, which blended with the ugly orange-blue combination below.

"Find your inner peace, Holly. Those emotions must not interfere with one another—regain control," said a familiar voice.

Holly's head jerked up, and she rubbed her eyes furiously, certain that the image in front of her was an illusion. Or, perhaps, she was still dreaming. " _Obi-Wan Kenobi_?" she asked in a hoarse, disbelieving sob.

42.

Not exactly a cliffhanger, but it's a surprise, maybe? Tell me what you think in a review.

Gigira: Thank you! Yeah, Dagobah would be very unoriginal. And Holly wouldn't have this dance with the Dark Side under Yoda's guidance, would she? And of course, Star Trek _isn't_ helping her situation. I'm flattered you think so highly of it!

JJAndrews: I like the analogy to water-it does represent the Force very well. But I love those types of things in fantasy that are so open to interpretation. Thanks for sharing your opinions!

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: Yeah, I hope she sticks with the Light Side too. I guess we'll just have to find out which one she chooses :)

Sardhrantor: Hold out hope for a little longer, won't you? Maybe the Dark Side isn't _that_ strong. Thanks for the grammar check, again!

EGGS: Glad you like it! As for the advice, it really varies from character to character. First, you have to _understand_ the person, and think through what you write them in to do: is it logical for Darth Vader to complain about higher authorities? No, that's more an Anakin thing. Vader has a formal way of speaking that sort of demands respect-or he'll kill you. I just go by what feels natural. And about the talents, you gave me an idea for something in the future-I'll give you a shout out when we get to that part!

Smile Back: I try not to make her too powerful-or powerful at all, really. I hope my reasons for the Holly/Luke connection thing is up to par with your expectation, and I will be exploring her capabilities once she decides _which side she's on_. Thanks for reviewing!

Until next week! Or next month-whenever life decides to give me some free time, I'll write. Bye!


	27. Chapter 27

So...um...Hi? It's been a while (sorry 'bout that. School just sort of happened for the last couple of weeks, ya know?) and I hope you didn't forget about this story! Onto the chapter!

Chapter 27:

The old Jedi stepped forward and smiled warmly at her. She longed to embrace him, but something about his translucent blue form told her that such action would be impossible. "Dry your tears, child. A peaceful mind never weeps."

Holly buried her face into her sleeve and attempted to fulfill his request. She couldn't placate her emotions, however, as her mind was entirely focused on the appearance of the form in front of her.

"It is I, Holly. Your eyes to not deceive you," he said calmly, sitting beside her on the bed.

"Y-you're dead," she managed. "How are you here?"

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Yes, indeed, I am dead. The moment Vader's blade struck me, I became One with the Force."

Holly squinted at him through her teary eyes. "So that's where you went. Your body just disappeared." She sniffed in and gave a small smile. "It was sort of creepy, and I got really mad."

He eyed her with slight humor. "You did. Do you still have the scar from Vader's lightsaber?"

She shrugged. "Maybe; I never really checked." There was a slight silence, and Holly noticed that her sobs had receded into hiccoughs. "O-Obi-Wan, I really think I'm in trouble," she said, shifting from the relatively 'light' conversation to more significant matters.

"Which is why you can see me at all," he said, and it wasn't in a pleased tone. "I couldn't have appeared to you one year ago if I tried; then, you had only a sliver of connection with the Force."

His words nearly evoked more tears. She was going to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan knew it, now. Even the _dead_ knew how epically she'd failed. "What has that got to do with it? Those on the Dark Side can see dead people?" she sneered at herself.

"The Sith are powerful. Their hate, their fury, fuels the fire of their abilities. It strengthens any skill you have. You were not remarkably strong before; as you come dangerously close to the shadow, your abilities are more prominent," he explained, as if he had thought very long about the subject. Well, he had been dead for three years, so he wasn't exactly short on time.

It almost sounded like praise. "If it's so much better, why stay on the Light Side?" It was an honest question, but it sounded like a challenge. Holly flinched at her tone.

"Better? I said nothing about better." He looked at her severely. "It's a flame. If you let it roar and grow, you can't smother it. It makes you powerful, yes, but you lose control. The flame will engulf you—no Sith ever meets a pleasant end. They are so obsessed with prolonging life that they destroy any energy they have left to live it."

That did make perfect sense. "The Law of Conservation of Energy," she quoted from her textbook, "states that energy can be neither created nor destroyed, simply converted into another form."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan affirmed. "You may burn yourself out, Holly, if you continue to feed the flame."

She looked at him helplessly. "How am I feeding it? I know that it's happening, but I don't know what _it_ is! How would I smother something I can't even properly identify?"

"Your own human emotion is what it is, Holly. The death of your friend, and your need for revenge because of it started the process. A Jedi does not seek revenge. You just allowed the anger fester within you, to build up tinder. And then, you listened to Darth Vader. That's what _it_ is: succumbing to the words of the Sith."

Holly bowed her head in shame, her hair blocking out the glow that the deceased Jedi Master emitted. She knew everything that Obi-Wan said was true—she'd known it before, too. She didn't know how to deal with the emotions, though, how to deal with the revenge and anger. She tried erasing it, and that hadn't worked.

"So what do I do? I can't just wish it away. I tried."

He chuckled at that. "Nothing can just be _wished_ away easily, or at all, Holly, especially not the Dark Side of the Force."

Hearing him say it made an uneasy feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. It was almost as though his words actually made it true: until he said it, the feeling had only been her suspicions. But now that Obi-Wan verified them, those theories were fact.

Pink shame blossomed in her mind. "Can you show me the way?"

"Partially," he said, and he placed a blue hand on her shoulder. She could almost feel it. "You only see me because you are stronger now, more connected with the Force. As you were, I was incapable of appearing to you. When you near that stage, I will fade; eventually, I should no longer be able to aid you once you return to the state at which you began."

"Could I surpass that, though? Is it possible to see you again, from the Light Side?" Her voice was so hopeful.

He gave her a sad smile. "Some can see me," he said. "Some are strong enough, even from the Light, to see the ghosts of the deceased."

Holly thought she understood his true meaning. 'Some.' In other words, not her. She wasn't strong enough, unless she took the easy, dangerous path. "So I won't see you. I can't go to the Light Side."

He objected immediately. "If you could not go to the Light Side, you would be incapable of being in the Dark," he said, as though it were obvious. "There are, however, inhibitions that you may face, some that are not strictly related to strength in the Force."

"Such as?"

"Why are you here in the first place?" he asked rhetorically. "I know not the will of the Force. That is _not_ to say, however, that it is not within your power to choose the Light over the Dark," he said, sensing her next question.

"So, because I shouldn't be here, I may have my fate decided for me?" Holly's eyebrows came together in confusion. "Free will is just an illusion?"

"If that is true, it is true for everyone else," Obi-Wan answered. "Vader chose the Dark Side, against the predictions of a prophesy. You may be able to choose the Light Side, despite any lack of clarity of your situation."

"May?" There was always a variable that he just wouldn't state clearly.

"Do not let this discourage you," he warned. "Do not give up in your struggle, just because of what I will say now. Can you promise me that you will not?"

She nodded immediately. "Of course."

There was a pause, as though he were reluctant to relay this bit of information. It was understandable, considering. "Some of the Jedi of the old Council were of a certain, strict philosophy. They believed that, if a Jedi touched the Dark, he could never truly return to the Light. The shadow would leave an irreparable stain on their mind."

Holly didn't have anything to say. The dread in the back of her mind became prominent.

"Master Yoda, of whom you have undoubtedly heard, was of this opinion. _I_ , however, do not subscribe completely to that mentality."

"What do you believe?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"Consider this: if the Dark can leave such a stain on the Light, can the Light not leave such a stain on the Dark? If things were different, if there had been a Sith Council, instead of a Jedi Council, would the Sith Masters not speak that side of the argument?" He actually expected an answer to this question.

"It would be logical," she said, though he had not been looking for an answer like that. "I've not had twenty years to dwell on the subject, Obi-Wan. Either way, though, I don't see how it would bode well for me."

"Meaning?"

"Well, you said that the Light would stain Dark and the Dark would stain light, right? According to you, though, I wasn't at either end before I took this….plummet." Her voice dropped at the last word, as though she were afraid to admit it. "So wouldn't it be stained with whichever side I found first?"

He brought a hand up to his beard. "Are you truly on the Dark Side, though? I have witnessed someone I love take the Fall. When one turns, the signs are obvious, to both oneself and those they leave behind." A deep sorrow was apparent in his eyes. "Despite all of the knowledge that you should not possess, there is still much you must learn about the ways of the Force."

Holly stared. How did he know? It was obvious what he meant by 'knowledge that you should not possess.' He knew her single biggest secret—a bigger secret than the eighty-nine she made on a biology test in ninth grade.

Then it struck her. He was 'One with the Force,' and though she didn't know what the term truly meant, she was pretty sure that it was synonymous to all knowing—or as close to it as one could get.

"Listen not to Vader's words, Holly, for they are tainted by his need for revenge and power. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgement; use your judgement as a tool for the emotions. Do not succumb to those feelings inside yourself, either; let them motivate you to overcome any need for revenge."

"Will you help me?" Holly asked, and she felt like a young child reluctant to branch off from her mother. "I've tried and I'm lost."

"If you succeed, I cannot aid you much farther," he said. "I can start you on a path, but you must finish it. Do not be discouraged and do not give in to the Dark feelings. Trust in the Force."

With that, Obi-Wan was gone. Holly fell sideways onto her pillow and sought for sleep, but if it came at all, it came lightly and disturbed.

42.

For the three parties—Han, Leia, and Chewie onboard the _Falcon_ , Luke training with Yoda on Dagobah, and Holly held as prisoner on Darth Vader's ship—time passed differently.

When Luke had time in between meditation and strenuous training, he'd think about his friends. He realized now that, throughout his life, he'd not only seen and heard a person, but he'd felt them, too, through the Force. It was like that with Holly—he'd felt her, but right off the bat, it'd been confusing. He noticed that she was more prominent than the rest in his mind and in his senses.

Before falling asleep some nights, he'd question where he was. Of course, Luke knew that the planet was named Dagobah, and that the only other sentient being on it was also the only Jedi left in the galaxy. But below the surface, something about this planet stood out. It was the reason that the last Jedi Master chose here to build his home, some quality that the planet itself possessed.

Luke could feel this quality, even if he couldn't name it. He felt it as he lay on his cot, very close to the ground, and felt it when he touched the rocks and plants through the Force. Dagobah was a galaxy in itself—untouched by the warring civilization beyond, the planet existed in its own bubble.

Perhaps for this reason it was the best place to train a Jedi. One could find their peace easily without the interference of the world beyond on a planet like this. But Luke suspected that it not only muffled the chaos that was the galaxy beyond, but rather, it blocked it out completely.

A small, hopeful part of his mind held onto that thought silently. He brought none of his questions to Yoda—not yet, at least. To be a Jedi, one must be unattached; he had heard no end to that lesson. And his mind dwelt upon nothing _but_ attachment—or, rather, the significant lack thereof.

The thought was this: If Dagobah blocked out all elements of the Force from the galaxy beyond, the sudden lack of Holly's consciousness would be explained perfectly. She wasn't gone from the galaxy; she was just gone from his mind. Wherever she may be, there was no definitive proof that she had died.

Luke held on to that optimistic mindset throughout his training. Perhaps Yoda noticed—more than likely, he noticed, but perhaps he did not identify the root of Luke's driving force. The small Jedi may not have suspected that it was this connection, the same connection that Yoda warned him of, that encouraged him day after day to strive for greatness and completion of the Jedi training.

Yoda knew, however, what Luke thought of, day after day. Obi-Wan, too, could sense the inner force driving the boy to greatness.

Luke's time passed slowly.

42.

In a completely different outer spiral arm of the galaxy, in a completely different quadrant, region, and planetary system, the _Millennium Falcon_ slowly but steadily made its way to the mining colony on Bespin, Cloud City.

Three sentients and two droids—both of whom would argue for sentience anyway, so in retrospect, it was pointless to even differentiate—were growing weary of simply staying in the same ship, at the same pace, along the same trajectory for nearly two months. The days blended together achingly slowly, and the thoughts of each passenger grew infinitely more severe.

Leia Organa, for example, was increasingly worried for the livelihood of the Alliance. The Empire's strike had taken a great toll on the group of rebels, and though she found some comfort in the thought that not all was lost, they still suffered way too many casualties.

The Rebellion had been secure for so long. Some may argue that it was only a matter of time before the Galactic Empire found them, but Leia and her fellow leaders had taken many precautions. It was unlikely that the Empire's probe, which had probably been one of many, would even have pointed towards Hoth.

It's completely possible that it was just by chance that Echo Base was discovered. On the other, more probable hand, the Empire could have been informed of the Rebel's location by someone who had spent time with the Rebels, not quite as one of them, but not quite separate, either. A worker, but not a soldier. Someone who had perhaps never lifted a gun for their cause, who had no real origin, and no real backstory.

Holly was the perfect spy. Her claims were fantastic in the true meaning of the word: so incredibly implausible that they could, in no way, be true. However, no information she provided could be refuted, for Holly must've really been gifted in semantics.

For example, she said that, "Where I come from, we call it Earth."

That could be taken many ways. The planet from which Holly hailed could have indeed been _Earth_ —though there was no such world in the data banks, it could have been in one of the far reaches of the galaxy, in the outskirts of the Outer Rim. Alternatively, it could have been a well-known planet, possibly even near the galaxy's core. If understood from one perspective, the 'we' mentioned could have been Holly and any number of other people in the galaxy. The fact that it was _called_ Earth didn't necessarily mean that Earth was its true name.

Other than that, most of what Holly said about her home world was of the culture and the people, not its galactic location. Not even the discovered planets had been explored in detail, so there was no credible way to compare Holly's tales of Earthen art and customs to the truth.

She had quite an imagination and was a rather convincing liar. If Holly's story was untrue, as Leia suspected, she was either an excellent actress or a politician—and the latter often implied the former, anyhow.

Not only could Holly O'Reilly have given away the location of Echo Base, but she also sabotaged the ship holding two of the most influential people in the Alliance, the Princess Leia herself and Captain Han Solo.

Han, for his part in the journey, wasn't thinking about Holly. In fact, it was the one thing he tried very hard _not_ to think about. He took it as gospel that the compression coils were a mistake and forgot about it. He did his best to ignore the little spider-like droid that was constantly dogging Chewbacca and chose to focus his thoughts on the flight of the ship and the lovely princess accompanying them.

Han knelt in front of the cupboard in the small cooking area of the ship—it was perhaps the only area in the _Falcon_ not readily accessible, for one must know exactly where to go if they hoped to find it. Over the past few weeks, he had been scouring the various storage cabinets scattered throughout the ship for the last vestiges of food in the place.

Behind a few empty jars that had once held preserves sat a box, which Han had completely forgotten about until this moment. Knocking aside the glass jars, he pulled it to the front and brought it out of the cupboard. Its weight was promising.

Grabbing a sharp tool from the square foot of counter he had above the tiny oven, Han broke the seal on the box and grinned when there were revealed to be several packages of instant meals, each of which could feed four people. Chewie would take two of those servings, and Han and Leia had enough to feast on.

They were the expensive sort, too. They must've been part of the Rebellion's supply—to be honest, Han didn't remember when he picked them up, or why. They took a bit longer to prepare, and he hardly had the patience for that.

Chewie was taking the night shift in the cockpit, so Han set aside two servings for him once he'd finished duty. It was rather late, but there were still many hours left in the night. Leia, who had been working on repairs all day, must've been starving. It made Han's heart flutter to think of the look of appreciation that would flood her face when he produced the plates of warm cuisine for the two of them.

He added water to the mixture before putting it in the oven, but then a jar caught his eye. It wasn't empty—instead, it contained a red spice that he barely remembered receiving as payment for some shipment many years ago. It lasted indefinitely, so long as it was sealed, and he unscrewed the top and sniffed it before identifying the spice as melange.

He stirred a teaspoon into the mixture, hoping that the valuable spice wouldn't ruin the dish, and placed it in the oven for half an hour.

When Han carried the two plates out to the living area, he focused on Leia's face to judge her reaction. To his dismay, he found that her eyes were glued to a data pad, reviewing one ship function or another. He began to think that Leia would have much more free time if Holly were—but Han wouldn't let himself finish the thought. Instead, he set down her plate and swiped the data pad from her hands simultaneously. It was then that she noticed his existence.

"Hello, your Worshipfulness," he bowed, lowering his head mockingly low with a wide smirk on his face, and he noticed with no small degree of pleasure the humorous glint in Leia's eye. "I present you with your supper."

Leia breathed in deeply, savoring the smell of the stuffing-like meal. "Hmm, nice. But where'd you get…." She paused a moment, trying to name the unusual aroma. "Melange?"

He shrugged, sliding into the seat next to her. "Not entirely sure," he said. "Must've been the last time I was in Tatooine." Huh. Last time he was there, he'd left with an old man, some wide-eyed kids, and a couple of irritating droids.

"The desert types have this stuff?" she questioned, taking a spoonful into her mouth and tasting it tentatively.

"Harvest it from some rare plant, I think. Those wild cacti that live in the dunes."

Leia sent him a look. "Luke never mentioned cacti on Tatooine."

Han chewed a bite and cocked his head to the side. "Really?" he said through the mouthful of food, but swallowed before continuing. "Must've been Jakku, then," but when Leia shook her head again, he groaned. "Well, what other planets have cacti?"

"You've been listening to O'Reilly's _Earth_ stories too much," Leia responded.

Han concentrated on chewing his food rhythmically, trying to ignore where the subject was going. A few moments passed, but the silence bothered Leia. "How do you think Luke is doing?"

Han vaguely registered 3PO entering the scene off to the right, turning to face a panel on the wall and send a few bleeps into the interface. The droid was ignored by both humans.

His face darkened at the mention of their mutual friend. It would be a lie to claim that he harbored no bad feelings towards the budding Jedi—after all, it had been _him_ whom Leia kissed on Hoth, not Han. He set aside this petty feeling, however, and gave the question some thought. "Bored out of his mind, I'd reckon. Can't imagine sitting down and learning to be an old hermit for two months has been exciting."

Leia looked past his humor and saw that he meant exactly what he said—it didn't strike her as odd that Han wasn't particularly interested in Jedi training. "The whole thing unsettles me," she admitted. "I—well, there's something about him that was so distinctive when he was here. But now he's on that planet, it's entirely gone."

Han raised an eyebrow. "And what part of that _isn't_ surprising to you?"

"No, I'm sorry. That was vague. It's not an…. appearance thing, not really. It's more of a feeling that I had when he walked into a room, sort of like he was…. I'm not sure, a childhood friend or something." She looked up from her food, a small smile on her face. "Does that make any sense to you?"

"None at all," Han said, and he fought a scowl from his face.

Off to the side, C-3PO turned to look at the princess and the smuggler. His mechanical cortex had processed their conversation in the background of the programs he was running in case one of them had called for him. Though they hadn't addressed him, something about their words reminded him strongly of the misconception that Holly had unintentionally mentioned to him on Echo Base. "Mistress, if you don't mind me asking—"

"She minds, 3PO; get back to work," Han cut in.

"Go on," Leia contradicted.

"Ma'am, I simply must inquire: have you any siblings?"

The question perplexed her. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

3PO also remembered what Holly made him promise when she realized her mistake. He was programmed to answer all questions, but at the same time, he was forbidden from disobeying his masters and mistresses, save for instances in which obeying would present harm to droid or owner. He cleverly skirted around the question: "There was some confusion on Echo Base pertaining to your family. Forgive me, mistress, if I was incorrect."

It wasn't really a _lie_ , the protocol droid resolved. If it had been, his program wouldn't allow him to say it, anyway.

Their time passed in a blur, little spats like these consuming their days and their light, very early lighthearted laughter consuming the _Falcon_.

42.

Holly's time didn't pass at all. To her, she had been on Vader's ship for three days: the first day being her capture, the second being the confrontation with the Dark Lord himself when he revealed to her his knowledge of her friends, and whichever day happened to transpire at any given point in time being the third.

This new room allowed for much more sound, aside from that which originated immediately outside her cell, to reach Holly's ears. She heard it when she stood or sat completely still, once she canceled out her own steady heartbeat. It was a faint hum, which grumbled every so often—nine slow seconds apart, to be exact—and Holly swore that she could feel that beat, though it always happened to overlap her own pulse, so she wasn't sure.

Holly hadn't listened to any music (aside from the odd singing she had heard on the rebel base) in three years. Every so often, she'd have an unquenchable thirst for a specific style or artist, and now, it was David Bowie that she wished to hear.

Surprisingly, she didn't forget any of the songs that she'd memorized. To cope, so to speak, with this lack of musical experience, she'd spend hours each day focusing on one specific part of a song. Not just the lyrics or melody, but every little instrument she could decipher—admittedly, it didn't sound as good dissected this way, but once she combined the many parts once more, she could imagine it more precisely than if she had her headphones right there with her.

The disjointed but appealing opening chords to _Starman_ floated around behind her eyes, as if the man himself were performing a small concert in her head, just for her. It helped her focus, to forget about the things that troubled her so—which was basically everything.

Then, the music itself painted its own picture in her mind with the colors that made up her emotions. The angry reds melted into place around an orange sun, and it lost its meaning as it shifted the blue sky surrounding it to purple. The orange orb had a brighter, yellower counterpart that hung higher in the sky, though both solar bodies were descending, bleeding into the grainy sand of the planet below. A binary sunset.

She wasn't hearing _Starman_ anymore. She was _seeing_ it, feeling it with every fiber of her being. But the music just melted into the colors, and soon it became difficult to discern a chord progression from blended red and purple.

Like every other revolution that she had made concerning the Force, this painted picture, this song, were enlightening in their own way. Neither was her own original work, but together, they combined to make something that nobody in the galaxy—or any galaxy, for that matter—could even imagine without seeing it for the first time.

It was in that moment that she understood what Darth Vader meant by instructing her to blend her emotions together into one ugly conglomeration of no control.

He hadn't meant for her to interpret his words; he wanted her to do _exactly_ what he said. She hadn't even considered that his words, if heard by someone much older and wiser than she, could be heard as something completely different.

He _meant_ for her to do it wrong.

But no—Holly had finally seen past his 'red herring,' and she'd discovered what it truly meant to _blend_ the colors, the emotions. To let them breathe, yet still maintain a level of control over where they went and what they did—and she had inadvertently discovered that by putting them into a picture. Red was no longer red; rather, it combined with yellow, and yellow specifically, to make the orange sun that sat so proudly above the horizon.

It was just as Obi-Wan said: she let her emotions control her judgement before, like the paint controlling the painter's hand. But now, Holly could seize that brush in hand and make the colors go this way and that, as opposed to everywhere simultaneously.

Vader had given her a Jedi exercise, and she failed it.

And she'd done it; she'd fallen into his trap. But now, Holly could reach her arms high and pull herself out of that well that her own hands had dug.

"Obi-Wan?" she asked, hopefully, but not really regretting the silence that answered her.

42.

To be honest, I'm getting kinda tired of all this sitting and waiting. How 'bout you? I think we'll be moving on from this stuff in the next chapter-not that I didn't enjoy writing it, of course. It's just time to release these precious characters into the Clouds so they can reach their full potential...if you catch my drift.

Excuse the bad joke.

I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to review:

river banking: Wow, thanks! I've also suffered from fandom addiction just because of one fic...it's a dangerous thing to get into.

Dinosaur Imperial Soldier: I'm not sure why, but I feel like I'm getting through ESB a lot quicker than ANH, so the events you've described will be happening soon...if I find time to update. Thanks for your feedback!

JJAndrews: I was really unsure how to approach the whole Force thing, and I hope I've not rushed this part. It's not over, certainly, though it may seem so...But without any true instruction, Holly's basically doomed to fail, yeah.

EGGS: Not even _I_ , the author (which should be rather telling of how badly I treat characters by default) want her to turn to the Dark Side! But on the same leaf (or page. Not sure how the saying goes), the truly Light Side doesn't seem to promising either. Thank you so much for sharing your opinions!

Sardhrantor: Obi-Wan, to me, is literally the symbol for hope in Star Wars. As for BSG, the specific reference I made would apply to the Centurions in the re-imagined series, but I love both the old show and the remake. I was hoping someone would pick up on that! Thank you for the grammar check, as always.

Smile Back: Sometimes I get caught up in the sad stuff that I write; I don't know why. But I do try and stay away from it. Anyhow, I certainly don't mind such a comment! Most things I read are lots of letters without much meaning, and yours was one of the more insightful ones. Thanks for any sort of comment!

See you guys sometime later...hopefully not in two weeks, though!


	28. Author's Note

Hi, guys.

You haven't heard from me since last year. Whoops. I intended to keep writing continuously through my ninth grade year, but with homework assignments rendered that impossible. With the summer coming closer and closer, I hope more free time will be available to me, and that I can continue this story.

However, the most recent chapters have been...less than the other ones. I just haven't enjoyed writing them as much as I enjoyed the earlier ones, and I feel like they weren't as cohesive as they could have been. I am seriously considering rewriting many of the chapters. There were also parts of the first chapters that are unnecessary, ideas that I dropped because I didn't have a clear plan of the story in my head. I'd like to propose something.

During the summer, I may rewrite each chapter. _Strange Magic_ will still be _Strange Magic_ and Holly will still be Holly, but the other details - like how I rambled on and on about stuff that nobody, not even I, was truly interested in and the little snippets of out-of-character dialogue and actions on the part of many different characters will be revised.

This is where I must ask for your input. If nobody wants me to change anything and if you suggest that I should just continue with the chapters as they are written, I'll try to find a way to work around the bumps. If you think that rewriting it will be a good idea, I'd like some advise. How exactly would I go about doing that? Would I delete this entire story, then upload each chapter regularly, or would I replace each of these chapters with new ones as I upload them?

If any of you would like to lend an author a hand, please contact me via PM or a review - I still feel very new to the whole thing, despite being a member for over a year, and any way you could help would be greatly appreciated.

I can't make any promises right now, but after I've thought about this more, I hope I can start writing again immediately. Or at least soon.

Thank you for your time!


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